The Picture of Arthur Kirkland
by lackadaisical meandering
Summary: After her marriage to the most eligible man in all of England, Madeleine finds her new home is shrouded in intrigue and her cold husband and his quirky staff aren't all as they appear. UK/Fem!Can
1. Act I

_**The Picture of Arthur Kirkland**_

**Summary: **After her marriage to the most eligible man in all of England, Madeleine finds her new home is shrouded in intrigue and her cold husband and his quirky staff aren't all as they appear. UK/Fem!Can

**Disclaimer: **This story is based loosely off of the classic French fairytale _Beauty and the Beast_ and _Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. All rights belong to whoever has the rights to these stories, and, of course, Hetalia, nor any of its characters, is mine.

**Warnings: **Swearing.

**A/N:** Not a whole lot to say here…

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene I<strong>

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><p><em>Dearest Diary,<em>

_ My mother has given me you to record my general musings and thoughts of my new life as a married woman and the first Lady of Kirkland in thirty or more years. (My Lord was rather vague and generally unclear on _that_ whole issue.) It was a very kind thought of Mother's, as she often told me that her own diary (perhaps a journal? Diaries imply too much of a layer of secrecy and intrigue) was one of her few confidents in her early years as a wife to Father. _

_ But, and I hate to start off our acquaintanceship as diary and writer with me simply moaning on about my own personal woes (but, as I ponder this idea, I realize that this is exactly the reason journals exist in the first place) I must confide that married life is even more dull than a life of a debutante was thus far. Of course, the wedding was quite spectacular, Mother would never let it be anything else, and the gifts that were given where quite generous—that's where I got you, after all—but there was one key component missing from this merry event and that was a groom. Or rather, the enthusiasm of the groom. I have met my Lord a few times before the ceremony and he seemed a rather likable, if not charming man, but at the wedding he was nothing short of cold in mannerism as well as demeanor. _

_ This was no help to my already losing argument with my elder brother—but only by one minute—Alfred. If there's only one thing I could say about my brother it is that he is unspeakably protective of me. As you may be able to guess, diary, he was not in the least bit thrilled, supportive, or, at the very least, acted as though he were happy for me during the six months of engagement after the betrothal agreement made by Father and my Lord's when I was in the cradle was announced. _

_He had been insistent that should I want to break off the arrangement, all I had to do was say so because Father would listen if I voiced my protests. Part of me agrees with my brother still, even after being married (it pains me to say this, as I am trying to be a loyal wife) but then, I know that other woman of my status and age—sometimes younger—have married men far older who they haven't met even once._

_ I honestly consider myself lucky for being able to live with my family as long as I have—I am, after all, seventeen and a half, a bit old for a debutante—and that I got to at least meet my Lord three or more times. But Alfred would not listen, he said my head was full of the nonsense father preached to me, and he refused to talk to me, barely acknowledge me, throughout the wedding ceremony. I didn't get the chance to talk with him afterwards, I suspect he was avoiding me on purpose, and I shall write a letter to him formerly apologizing—he has never had the capability of staying mad with me for more than a day or two—once I have unpacked my things enough to find my letter stationary. _

_ I shall have to write that my Lord is still being cold towards me—Alfred will, without a shadow of a doubt, write back with a sarcastic quip such as _'and who's fault is that you have to deal with this?_' only much more witty—because it is, unfortunately, true. I know how a man is supposed to treat his new wife, but my Lord put me in a separate room when we returned to his townhouse—rather _ours_ now—and that was only last night. This morning his housekeeper, not him, told me that we were leaving for the country manor immediately. I rode up with him, but the atmosphere of the carriage was suffocating, to say the least. _

_ When we finally arrived, late into the afternoon, (we did not stop for lunch, despite my stomach being embarrassingly noisy) he barely spared a moment to help me from the carriage and lead me into the entrance hall of the manor. He only took a moment to pause and tell me that the entire house was mine to explore except for his personal study and the attic._

_ When I opened my mouth to ask why they were off limits, he said, in a way so that it carried all throughout the entrance hall—which stretched up almost four stories—almost if he knew what I was going to say, '_It's Forbidden.'

_He left swiftly thereafter and I was left quite alone in the hall, surrounded by my two suitcases and feeling quite alone and scared. Or, at least, more so than I already had been feeling—the feeling has yet to wear off. Thankfully, the housekeeper, her name's Elizaveta but she insists upon Eliza, appeared from one of the servant passages, it would seem the house is laced with them (as well as secret passage) and ushered me to my chamber—where I am currently._

_ Eliza is a kind enough woman, when she is around I can't help feeling a little more secure and that I'm not quite as alone as I originally thought. It doesn't hurt in the least that she seems to have an excellent way of sensing if someone is in need of a cheering up through a cup of piping hot tea. _

_ Despite the Lord Kirkland not being too remarkable thus far—other than his distant behavior—the manor, itself, is quite the opposite. The entrance by itself is four stories high as it stretches up with the house, with a crystal chandelier, hung high above, which makes the whole room glimmer in an almost storybook sort of way. My room—no, I am not to stay in my Lord's—is decorated in scarlet. The drapes for the bed and windows a majestic maroon, the walls an even deeper red with golden designs. The furniture is a deep cherry wood—the kind Father would always remark upon—and generally much to my liking. _

_ I have yet to explore much of the house, Eliza said I would have plenty of opportunity for such things later, but for today to just rest and recover from my long journey here while she goes to finish dinner. Before bustling on her way, she told me that she would bring it up, as my Lord would take it alone in his study. So, that is my first full day of married life. It is an odd thought that my happy wedding was just yesterday afternoon and I am now quite alone in my chamber at my Lord's manor._

_I shall write tomorrow of its events,_

_Sincerely,_

_Lady Madeleine of Kirkland_

_(It shall take me quite some time to become accustom to writing that new title.)_

The next morning dawned almost drearily over the Kirkland manor, sending faint wisps of sunlight through the cracks of the heavy drawn curtains, almost as though the sun was simply half-heartedly shining after being blocked by a constant wall of cloud cover for the past month or so. At that moment, Madeleine was seated in the window seat, having drawn the curtains open ever so slightly, allowing herself to just be able to peek out at the view of the back gardens and just enough so that anyone from the ground floor would barely be able to make out her pale face.

For some odd reason, the simple action of slipping out of bed and going to the window seemed rebellious and risky; as though she wasn't allowed to do anything of her own freewill within the confines of this house. But, then again, she would sternly remind herself, that's just a silly way to think. After all, she was the new lady of the house, despite the lord not seeming to have noticed. And, she consoled, the early morning scene, with the bright pastel petals and emerald green that the garden painted was quite worth whatever imaginary risk she was taking.

She sat there for a long, savoring moment. The nighttime fog, still barely coating the forest that crept up to the edges of the pristine emerald lawn, reluctantly retreated into the blue sky. The sun seemed to scurry into the clear atmosphere, almost as though it was worried that, should it be too slow or wait too long, the clouds would invade the skies as they had done all throughout the month of April, bringing light showers along with them.

A small flicker of black, an odd sight amongst all the colors of the outside world, caught Madeleine's eye in the very corner of her window view. Curiosity took its hold and she leaned forward to investigate only to see a striding black figure that she had somehow become so familiar with in such a remarkably short amount of time.

Blonde shocks of hair stuck waywardly out from underneath an inky black top hat while the black morning suit cut a lean, handsome figure. It was the lord of the manor and, with just the sight; it sent her heart bounding in fear and another emotion so foreign that it had yet to be named. He was moving at a leisurely gait, but obviously knowing exactly where his destination was. In one hand was clutched a walking cane, almost lazily, and the other swung at his side.

Madeleine had decided, in the time that she had to ponder—which was plenty—that the lord was a businessman no matter what façade or act he put up. His sole intentions were adding to and multiplying his already vast fortune. Should it please him and his aims, he could be quite dapper—as he was during their engagement—but, now that he had his prize, her dowry and the business opportunity that her father had to offer, he no longer saw the need to keep up the act. She hated to make him out to be a cynical, calculating mastermind, but he had yet to prove himself otherwise to her so that was all she had to go on at the moment.

Idly, almost as if she wasn't fully realizing she was doing it, Madeleine trained her indigo gaze upon the back of her husband as he leisurely wove his way through the flower garden and out onto the emerald lawn beyond that the buffer zone between the trees and the shadows they cast, and the flowerbeds. He disappeared into the forest beyond that, seeming to be following a path, and, a handful of minutes later—much of which was spent with Madeleine peering at the skirts of the forest expectantly—he reappeared on the same path he took, retracing his steps back through the garden and to the back entrance of the manor.

Something was strangely captivating about the lord to his new wife. She couldn't decide if it was the aura of pure business he put up or if it was that he wore a constant, indecipherable expression at all times. He had an odd talent of being, at the same time, an impossible mix of the most dull and intriguing person Madeleine ever, and she suspected _would_ ever, lay eyes on. And, as he reached the corner of her field of vision, he stopped and turned a smirk up at her.

There was a moment of complete silence, both in Madeleine's scarlet chamber as well as outside in the gardens on the gravel path that the lord stood on. Slowly, deliberately, he raised a hand and tipped the rim of his polished hat to her, that smirk still perfectly curving his lips. Then, as if he never stopped, he swept back into the manor.

Madeleine blinked at the spot where her husband had been standing just a moment before, as though in a trance, before she started, nearly jumping from the window seat and landing in a startled heap on the wooden floorboards. Fortunately, she steadied herself before she slid unceremoniously to the floor and instead, kept a firm grip on the scarlet curtains, her knuckles going white. The image of him, standing nearly fifteen feet below her, his emerald eyes that had no bottom turned to stare at her in her perch seeming to be etched into her mind.

It would be hard to precisely say what was so powerful in that single look from him. She knew it had something to do with his eyes and she also would later realize it was the first time he truly looked at her properly.

Steadying herself, she realized she was crinkling the curtains and hastily released her grip on them before shakily staggering to her feet. Her husband was a powerful man not only in wealth, it would seem, but his presence as well. Slightly shaking her head, she took a deep breath and went over to her washbasin and scrubbed her face so that when she peered out from the towel, her skin was pink. It was calming, like it washed away her encounter—if she could even call it that—and leaving her fresh for the day.

Soon, her golden curls were tied back with her traditional red ribbon so as to keep out of her way and she had her wardrobe doors opened. It was a giant, richly carved piece of furniture, taking up nearly one fourth of the room. It could hold more clothes than double what she had owned all throughout her life and the dresses she brought for married life barely took up any of it. Sighing at this, she chose a plain dusty blue gown and its designated red sash.

By the time this business was taken care of, there was a gentle knock on the door and Madeleine called, "Come in!" as she set to straightening her bedding.

"Good morning—" begin Eliza, the housekeeper as she entered the bedchamber, both hands firmly clutching a silver breakfast tray. "Good heavens, my lady! Did you dress yourself?"

"Of course I did, Eliza," Madeleine replied, blinking at the older brown haired woman. The only time one of the maids that worked for her family ever helped in dressing her was for the balls during her season in London. Other than that, she was left on her own. She knew it was an out of the ordinary habit for a lady of her breeding to do, but the maids had their hands full with her younger siblings. There _were _seven of them.

"With all due respect, my lady, that is what I'm here for," Eliza replied, sounding slightly amused with Madeleine, as though she had never known a well bred lady to actually _know_ how to dress themselves.

"You are already very busy with running the house, Eliza, you don't need to worry about me," Madeleine replied. She knew, just from the dark circles under the housekeeper's eyes, that the woman was over worked. She supposed that, her getting dressed on her own could also be a nice break for Eliza, who was busy enough as it was. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

"My lady, if the master found out he'd be—" Eliza began, her voice carrying a warning.

"He doesn't have to know, does he? You can bring up my breakfast every morning and he will never be any the wiser. Speaking of breakfast, what do you have for me?" Madeleine asked, seamlessly transitioning to a much safer topic as she went to inspect the breakfast try that the housekeeper held.

Eliza was silent for a moment, her mouth pressed into a disapproving line as she stared quizzically at Madeleine; she obviously wasn't so easily distracted. But then, she sighed and said, "Dear, I don't mind if you dress yourself, honestly it's a relief that I don't have to spend an extra twenty minutes trying to get some ninny that doesn't know how to get her own arms into her sleeves every morning, but my lady, if the master found out, he'd be furious. He has certain standards and ideas on how a woman should act and I can tell you in great confidence that he won't like this one bit."

"Ah, bacon! I love bacon," Madeleine said in way of reply as she crunched into a strip of bacon. Eliza just placed her hands on her hips. The younger of the women thought that, surely, the housekeeper was preparing to give her a very long winded lecture on her master's ideas and how they were to be upheld by everyone in the household, especially his wife, but all she gave her was a grin.

Eliza and Madeleine both knew that they would get along swimmingly.

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene II<strong>

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><p>The morning of the second day after Madeleine's arrival to Kirkland manor and the third day since the start of her new life as a married woman found the young woman on the lowest story of the manor, exploring the cavernous house. She didn't know how anyone one, let alone a single man, needed enough rooms as there were in the Kirkland manor but she certainly enjoyed exploring the home.<p>

She had made it a project of hers to explore the nooks and crannies of the manor—and there were many to explore—by every morning, picking one of the four floors to investigate that day. The previous day she had spent on her own floor—the second one—poking into spare bedrooms, all pristinely kept as hers was. It was odd that she was at the very end of the hall on the west wing when there were so many other bedrooms in more convenient locations that were vacant. But, she supposed, those rooms were reserved for important business guests of the lord's.

At that moment, she was slowly progressing down the west wing corridor that ran off from the grand entrance hall. To the left were wooden paneled walls that were dotted with paintings of picturesque landscapes and golden handled doors leading into spacious drawing rooms or parlors, while to the right, was a line of windows that overlooked the gravel drive and the emerald lawn of the front of the manor. Passing a painting of a duck pond, she came to the next room and tried the doorknob. She knew it was a dangerous business opening doors and not knowing where they led to; after all, she still didn't know where exactly the lord's office was.

Not only had the Lord Kirkland forbidden her from entering, but also so had Eliza. Her warning for two mornings in a row as they parted ways at the landing of the second story staircase was not to disturb the master. Madeleine knew that Eliza wouldn't warn her of this if it wasn't founded on some truth, but thus far, she had good luck in only finding vacant rooms.

The next door she tried swung easily open, as all of them did, and she found herself peering into a music room. As the other rooms were, it was clearly cleaned on a daily basis. Not a spec of dust was in sight, the ivory piano keys gleamed with a recent polish, and the golden harp that resided near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows caught the incoming sunshine in its fine strings. But, just as the other rooms were, it was clearly not used. The brandy bottles on their shelves were unopened and the glasses for them still neatly arranged. The chairs and piano bench looked as new as when they were bought from the carpenter's workshop. Madeleine frowned at this.

Gathering her pink skirts in one hand she glided over and took a well practiced seat onto the piano bench, having managed to sit down at her own piano with such cumbersome skirts dozens upon dozens of times. Smoothing out her dress for only a second, she gently placed her long, elegant hands on to the ivory keys. There was a moment of complete silence as she prepared to play.

When she was eight years old—she had been playing since she was nearly three—she had been quite determined to quit practicing, she would much rather be outside riding horses or playing in the garden with her brother than stuck inside practicing, but her piano teacher had talked her into playing for just one more year, it really was a quite easy feat for her to do, as she played off Madeleine's pride, and soon that year became two, then three, then four.

Before long, Madeleine forgot all about ever wanting to quit. It really was a fortunate thing that she didn't, as now the mere sight and prospect of playing the black instrument was a comfort, something that would never change from before she was married.

Taking a deep breath, her left pinky pressed into one of the keys and then, the one piece she had memorized—partly just to impress her brother and partly because she had a cold for a week when she was thirteen and had nothing more of interest to do—Moonlight Sonata, by Ludwig von Beethoven. The song started off slowly, being played between three notes on the left hand—the bass clef—and then the right—on the treble clef—would interject with higher pitched staccato notes. She remembered the first time she heard her piano teacher play it, it had completely soothed her, it had seemed to wash all anxiety and worries away. That had been when she was sick and the doctors didn't know how to help and now, it was not knowing how her life was going to unfold.

Despite the song being calming and smooth, her mind's eye somehow was suddenly filled with an image of Alfred, her brother—despite him being the complete polar opposite of the mood of the song—leaning on the well-loved and worn baby grand piano back in the parlor of the Bonnefoy home to peer over at her, a grin across his face. Every time she'd practice when she was sick for that week when she was thirteen, he would smile at her as she played, laughing every time she grouchily told him to 'bugger off.'

He would just tell her to play something new for him from that week's lesson or a piece she completely made up on the spot. She would roll her eyes and laugh at him, most of the time this would lead to a coughing fit, which then would make Alfred apologize profusely and became flustered. She would tell him to stop being an idiot and that he was the only reason she wasn't upstairs in bed feeling miserable for herself.

Alfred then would just smile wearily, like he was afraid she'd start coughing again, and that would only earn him a playful punch in the arm.

Soon the song was over, bringing her out of her own reverie, and she sighed as she released the last note, letting the music room be plunged back into silence. Unlike before, the sonata left her feeling lonely and sad—it was supposed to, as her teacher would often inform her—and, for the first time, she well and truly missed her family, especially her brother.

"What are you doing?" said a deep voice from behind her. Madeleine nearly jumped out of her own skin, she wasn't expecting the sudden voice, and she hurriedly turned to see who the speaker was. There, in the doorway, stood the Lord, his handsome features somehow managing to catch the sunlight and giving him a youthful glow. It was something she noticed before, that glow of life that he had. His hair turned gold and his eyes, an emerald green deeper than any summer time forest.

She supposed she was so occupied with her memories that she didn't hear his approaching footsteps.

"Pardon me, my Lord," Madeleine replied, ducking her head in embarrassment. "I was playing the piano."

"Yes, I heard," he replied shortly, "You disturbed me in my work."

"Excuse me, I didn't think of that when I started to play," she said, her face slowly gaining a fierce red color while she studied her hands that rested in the folds of her pink lap.

There was a moment of pause, Madeleine could practically feel his gaze analyzing her, before he finally said, "See to it that it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, my Lord," she answered, dutifully. There was creak of the floorboards that signaled his departure and when she glanced up, he was gone. Letting out a long sigh, she returned her gaze to the keyboard, knowing she was gazing at it longingly. Shaking her head, she gathered herself up from the piano bench, getting to her feet almost mournfully.

"Excuse me, my Lady," came a new voice and Madeleine glanced up to see a slender, primly dressed man standing in the doorway where the Lord had stood just moments before. He wore a blue suit with white gloves and a white cravat tied about his throat. His hair was a neat dark brown, perfectly combed, while blue-eyes peered out from behind a pair of silver glasses. "But were you the one playing the piano?"

"Yes, sir, I was," Madeleine affirmed, somewhat wary of this new arrival, as she had never seen him before.

"Pardon me, I am Roderich, the butler of this manor," Roderich said, after a beat as he seemed to realize the woman's discomfort, as he bowed to her. "I only just arrived back from closing the house in London when I heard your marvelous playing. It has been a long time since there was music allowed to be played in this house."

"Why is that?" Madeleine asked, staring at the butler keenly, hoping for answers to the vast amount of questions she had from that single encounter with her husband.

"Well, you know the Lord," Roderich said, "It's all about money and music is a waste of it, in his opinion. He made that clear when he forbade me from playing on that same piano."

"You are a pianist, Roderich?" Madeleine prodded, eagerly.

"Used to be, a long time ago," the butler replied, for a moment getting a far off look in his eyes like he was remembering events that happened lifetimes ago. The young woman blinked at him for a moment but then he seemed to snap out of his sudden daze and said, "Now, my lady, may I interest you in following me to somewhere the Lord hasn't forbidden?"

"That would be most welcome, thank you Roderich," Madeleine nodded.

Five minutes later found Roderich ushering Madeleine into a two-story library complete with grand curving staircases and giant study tables neatly piled with scrolls and maps. "Wow," was the only word Madeleine could muster as she stepped into the enormous room, gazing about in awe.

"Indeed, my Lady," Roderich agreed to that one word, "My Lord rarely comes in here, so you should be able to stay out his line of fire, unlike the rest of us."

"Why?" she asked, temporarily shifting her focus from the library to the butler, furrowing her eyebrows.

The dark haired man shrugged elaborately, "I haven't the faintest. My Lord prefers to confide himself to his office, taking all his meals in there. The only time he comes out is for a business guest or to retreat to his bedchambers."

"No," Madeleine said, shaking her head, her curls bobbing around her face, "I meant why is he so…indifferent?"

"I wouldn't say he's indifferent, my Lady, that's only how he is on the surface," Roderich replied before adding, "You just have to be patient with him. But, if you'll excuse me, my Lady, I must return to my duties."

"Yes, of course, thank you Roderich," Madeleine nodded and the butler silently closed the doors, leaving Madeleine alone in the vast library. Deciding to not think about the puzzling problem that the Lord posed, she turned to the books and made her way to the nearest shelf, finding herself having discovered the cook book section of the shelves, which seemed to be the most used portion of the library.

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene III<strong>

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><p>Slowly, the days slid past, late April showers turning into May flowers that littered the flowerbeds and the emerald lawns—which Madeleine often saw was trying to be combated by the petite form of the gardener—and soon the library's many study tables were cluttered with books propped open to marked recipes, favorite fairytale stories, or the odd encyclopedia page, one of the Webster's was opened to Italian piazzas. After the initial first few days of exploring the manor, getting lost more times than once and ending up in an odd secret passageway or servants hall, Madeleine decided it would most likely be safest for her general health to spend her days in the library.<p>

She read ancient, crinkled hand written accounts of soldiers that fought in long forgotten wars and newly printed adventure novels about daring young military captains exploring the heart of the great, untamed continent of Africa. She composed her letters to her family in the library, just because it seemed the easiest place to write lies onto the paper on how much she 'adored the Lord and how she was getting on splendidly.'

Maybe it was because she didn't want her parents to worry or maybe it was because she secretly doubted anyone would believe if her, but she couldn't write how the Lord Kirkland never was to be seen, how he had barely spoken more than a sentence to her since their wedding. To her family, he was the charismatic and dapper gentleman that had a smile of gold and a wit more quick and charming than any other eligible man in all of England.

It was on the morning of the fifteenth of May that found Madeleine hunched over a fairly simple recipe for a beef stew that she had gotten into her mind would be a very good first dish to attempt. Ever since her deeper investigation of the cookbooks in the library, she had a growing desire to try to make some sort of meal. She had never cooked a thing in her life, but she figured there was a first time for everything.

So, with the book under arm, she wandered from the library and along the corridors, hoping that she would be able to find Eliza as she made her way along the hall. After a time of wandering—it was surprising that she hadn't found the kitchens in all of her exploring, but, then again, Eliza had explained that the Lord's ancestors believed in the servants being kept out of sight unless otherwise necessary, as did the Lord himself—she came upon Roderich, who had his blazer off and his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, apparently dusting.

"Ah, my Lady, good morning," he said, upon noticing her approach, pausing from his dusting of a painting of the English channel, feather duster poised in the air, lazily shedding feathers. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was hoping that you'd be able to point me in the direction of the kitchens," Madeleine replied.

"Is something the matter? Was your breakfast not to your liking this morning?" Roderich asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Of course not, Roderich," she replied with a reassuring smile.

"Well, if you're positively sure. Right this way then," Roderich said, still not seeming completely convinced as he set the feather duster carefully onto a nearby table and made his way towards, what appeared to be, a blank stretch of wooden paneled wall. The butler gently pushed on it and the wall slid open to reveal one of the servant's hallways; he stepped in and beckoned her to follow.

"I must say, my Lady," the butler began as they ambled along, "Your request is a rather odd one. No lord or lady of Kirkland has ever been into the kitchens in all the years that this manor has been built."

"Well, how long has it been standing?" Madeleine asked with a little smile. "Surely it can't be _that_ long if no lord or lady as ever been in it."

"Nearly four hundred years, built by the master's five times great grandfather," Roderich replied. This made the current Lady of Kirkland give off a soft whistle.

After a beat, Madeleine said, "I suppose I'm going to be changing that, aren't I?" Roderich didn't reply, either because he didn't know how exactly or because he was concentrating on finding a latch that would open a door hidden in the stonewall; it was probably the latter of the two though.

"Aha," Roderich finally said as he pulled on the lever he was fumbling around for and the wall to their right slid back to reveal a brightly lit, airy room. Roderich led the way in with Madeleine trailing curiously behind. She peered around, her eyes being met by gray flagstone flooring, pristinely scrubbed countertops, shining pots that hung from racks on the ceiling, golden handle and honey brown cupboards and a long, heavy wooden table that sat across from a crackling hearth.

"Hello, Ludwig?" Roderich called as he entered, looking about the room.

"Ein moment, bitte," came a deep voice from what Madeleine assumed was the pantry and a few moments later a tall, muscular man appeared from where the voice had come from laden with a bag of flour, confirming her suspicion. "Guten tag, Herr Roderich, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, my Lady wanted to come down to the kitchens," Roderich replied, indicating Madeleine, who smiled brightly at the tall, very blond haired and blue eyed German chef.

"Excuse me, meine Frau, I didn't recognize you," Ludwig said, hastily plopping his flour onto the counter top and bowing stiffly.

"It's alright, I actually came down in hopes that you'd do me a small favor," she replied, motioning with her hand that he could stand straight and properly.

"Und what would that be, meine Frau?" Ludwig asked, raising a thick blond eyebrow.

"How would you feel about making a traditional beef stew?" she asked, bringing forth her cookbook and flipping it open to the desired page and handing it to Ludwig with a somewhat proud smile.

"Ja, this is a rather easy recipe, if you want it for lunch, mien Frau?" Ludwig nodded, glancing over the ingredients and the preparation with a practiced eye.

"Yes, I would like that very much and I would like to help, too," Madeleine nodded. Both Roderich and Ludwig simultaneously raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, let her, Ludwig, please?" came a new voice and all three occupants of the kitchen turned to see a cheery auburn haired woman entering through a swinging door which, undoubtedly, led to another network of servant hallways.

"My Lady, this is Felicia, Ludwig's wife and the seamstress and maid of the manor," the butler introduced.

"Ve, it's a pleasure to actually meet you, my Lady!" Felicia replied, smiling from ear to ear, as she bounced over to the group, seeming only to remember to curtsy at the last moment. "I've been hearing such nice things about you and you're really pretty, too! Oh, I have the perfect red velvet that you'd look so—"

"Yes, yes Felicia," Roderich said, cutting off the auburn haired woman, seeming to be quite used to her long-winded natters. "That's all very well and good, but, my Lady, we can't allow you to cook. It was a mistake for me to lead you here, let alone to—"

"Ah, Roderich, don't be so mean!" interjected Felicia. "You never let anyone around here have any fun."

"And this _is_ my house," Madeleine added.

There was a moment of silence, in which the butler suddenly found himself faced with two rather determined woman. Finally he sighed, throwing his hands up, and saying, "Fine! But if the master ever finds out, let everyone hear me now that this was your idea, not mine!"

"Yeah! That means we can spend time together and become friends," Felicia cheered happily as she looped her arms with Madeleine's, her wide grin stretching even farther, if that was even possible.

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene IV<strong>

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><p><em>My Lady,<em>

_ I have been called away on business and shall return in three to four days._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Kirkland_

Madeleine glanced up from the short note to see Eliza, who had handed her the message, bustling about her bedchamber, tidying discarded undergarments. "I'm guessing he goes on business trips often?" the younger of the two women asked.

"Well, my Lady," Eliza began, probably about to tell her some sugar coated lie about how he really hated leaving home but then, seemed to think better about it, and said, "Yes."

The Lady just shook her head and asked, "Why does he even bother leaving me a message? I don't see him every day; I don't think I would have noticed the difference."

"Propriety," Eliza replied with a shrug, causing Madeleine to give off a rather unladylike snort of laughter.

"Oh dear, excuse me," Madeleine, covering her nose in embarrassment.

"You're quite alright, dear," Eliza said, grinning at the younger woman before adding, "But, anyway, the master does go on business trips quite often. He only stayed in the house for this long without leaving because of you—"

"Really? Never would have guessed it," Madeleine mumbled under her breath.

Eliza just ignored her and continued on, "And he's usually away on some business or he likes to spend his days out hunting in the forest."

This was a bit of a surprise, "Really? He hunts?"

"Yes, he's quite skilled," Eliza nodded as she gathered Madeleine's finished breakfast tray before asking, "Are you going down to visit Ludwig and Felicia again this morning?"

"Yes, I am," Madeleine nodded as she followed Eliza to the door.

"Well be useful then and grab that hamper of dirty laundry so I don't have to make the return trip back up here," the housekeeper said as she balanced the tray on her knee and coaxed the door into opening. Madeleine just grinned and rolled her eyes, hurrying to do as she was told and retrieve the tray.

Later that day found Madeleine strolling out of the kitchen door, which led into the stable yard, arm in arm with Felicia. "I just can't believe," the darker haired of the two was saying animatedly as they walked in step together, "that you've never been to the stables!"

"I never have gotten the chance and I am fairly sure that my Lord has some sort of rule against woman near horses," Madeleine replied.

Felicia grinned and replied, saying, "The master has more rules than even _he_ can remember." The two girls giggled despite themselves as they walked into the shade of the cool stable building, their nostrils being met by the smell of fresh hay and oats. "Hello? Feliks?"

"Like, what?" came a voice and soon a blond head peered out of one of the stables. "Oh hey, Felicia!"

"I have someone for you to meet, Feliks," Felicia began, "This is the Lady Madeleine."

"Like ohmigosh!" he said as he hurriedly bowed. "Excuse me, my Lady!"

"Please, Feliks," Madeleine said, with a smile and amusement clear in her voice.

"She's really nice, ve!" Felicia informed Feliks when he straightened as he was told, a cheery grin on her face.

"Like, it is so nice to meet you after all this time. I've been kind of curious about the master's new wife and I'm totally happy that it's someone like you," Feliks said with a relieved grin, obviously already having gotten over the minor heart attack he seemed to have when he realized who Madeleine was. "You're like really pretty, you know?"

"Well, thank you," the Lady replied.

"I know, ve! That's what I said too! But, I just had to show her the stables, because apparently she didn't even know where they were," Felicia continued on, agreeing with Feliks with a firm nod.

"Like, sorry, my Lady! You came at a, like, super bad time. The master took the two carriage horses for his trip and that only leaves his hunting horse and he's out in the fields right now," Feliks said, seeming genuinely distressed that Madeleine couldn't see any horses that moment.

"It's alright Feliks, that just gives me and Felicia a reason to come back and visit," the blond haired woman reassured.

"And we need to go see Victoria, too, want to join us?" Felicia asked, with a grin, already knowing the answer to this.

"Like, that's a great idea!" Feliks nodded in agreement. The three set off from the stables, heading around the house and through the backside's gardens. They ambled leisurely along the gravel path until they came upon a greenhouse with an actual house adjoined to it. On the way there, Felicia and Feliks both explained who Victoria was, Feliks' wife, first and foremost, and the gardener.

Upon reaching the quaint little yellow house, Feliks peered into the window in the door before saying, "Like, she's in the green house," before leading the way around a primly cut lilac bush that blew a rich scent at them as they passed, and came to the transparent glass of the green house. The blond man led the way in and called, "Victoria? Tori? Are you in here?"

"We're back here, Feliks," came the soft reply.

The three made their way down a row of fabulously colored blossoms and oddly shaped leaves, all of which fascinated Madeleine more than the last. Finally, they emerged through a wall of leaves into the center of the greenhouse, where they found the petite brown haired gardener and two blond haired children sitting. The gardener, obviously Victoria, was showing something to the girl—the smaller of the two children—while the older, a boy, had a look of sheer boredom written across his face.

"Hey Tori, I'd like you to meet the Lady Madeleine, the master's new wife!" Feliks said, proudly presenting Madeleine to his wife, who hastily scrambled to her feet from her seat on a stool to curtsy. "My Lady, this is Victoria, my wife, Vash and Lily, Roderich and Eliza's children."

Both the blond children were bowing or curtsying, following Victoria's example. "Please, everyone," Madeleine said, motioning for everyone to straighten.

"It is an honor to finally meet you, my Lady," Victoria said.

"I should be saying the same, I am such an admirer of the gardens and it is your gentle care that makes it flourish," Madeleine replied, giving the brown haired woman a genuine smile. One of her favorite things to do was just to sit amongst the flowers or watch the early morning sun dawn over them, it almost made it seem like she was living in a fantasy.

This made Victoria blush and say modestly, "Lily and Vash help quite a bit too."

"Yes, we help Auntie with the flowers," the little girl, Lily, nodded, smiling eagerly up at Madeleine, obviously no older than nine or ten.

" Lily, how many times do I have to tell you, Victoria isn't our auntie," the boy, Vash, said with a sigh. He still looked more childish than an adult, making him fifteen at the oldest, as he was still stuck in the awkward in-between point.

"Well, you do a marvelous job helping, the flowers are always spectacular," Madeleine said, smiling kindly at Lily, who's face adopted a radiate glow, before looking across at Vash, his ears turning pink.

* * *

><p><strong>Act I, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p><em>My Lady,<em>

_ I am once again called away on business and shall return home no later than Thursday afternoon._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Kirkland_

Madeleine glanced at the short note, this one longer than the last seven, that sat on her bedside table where she had left it Monday morning after Eliza had handed it to her She didn't need to read it—although she always did, multiple times—as she knew what it was going to say. It was always that he was 'called away' even though no messenger came to the manor to do any sort of calling and it always concluded with saying he would return sometime within the week.

It was now Wednesday afternoon and she had returned to her chamber after spending the morning with Felicia and Ludwig in the kitchens, wanting to change into fresh clothes before going down to the library—she didn't want to get flour on hundred of years old books. She sighed at the sight of that note before easily tying her hair back once again and gliding from her bedchamber. Instead of turning right and heading along the corridor to the main staircase, she went straight across the hall, and nudged on the oil painting of Westminster Abbey to reveal a secret passage. She had discovered the passageway only the day before and had found it was a much more convenient way to get to the library.

She set off down the passageway, going up the flight of stairs when she came to it—it was the only way to go—and upon reaching the top, found herself faced with passages that branched off left and right. She paused for a moment, trying to remember, which passageway, precisely, she had chosen the previous day. 'I prefer right, so I would have gone right,' she reasoned with herself. So, with a nod, she set off on her way once more.

Soon, she came to yet another staircase that led up and she began to climb. She felt like she was climbing for a while, more than one flight of stairs, and she almost stopped and went back—there definitely was only one flight of stairs going up after the fork in the passages on the route to the library—but then, she was very close to the top and it would have just been a waste of time.

Sighing, she turned away from peering back down the winding staircase and turned her feet once more to go forward, setting off at her steady pace once more. Three more steps and then she reached a small, dusty landing with a single, gray wooden door, a black iron latch on it. Trying the latch, she found it easily slid open and she stepped into a cramped room with many chests and chairs under white sheets, the ceiling slanted, and the small windows filtering light in captured the particles of dust that floated through the air.

With a sudden jolt, she realized that she had somehow managed to find herself in the attic, one of the two place of the whole entire Kirkland manor that was off limits at all costs. 'But, the Lord isn't home, he's away on business,' she thought. 'He would never know I was up here. And if I leave now, then if he does, it'll all just be one big mistake.'

But, before she could turn back for the door, a faint scratching sound, the undeniable noise of somehow writing, reached her ears and her curiosity won out, carrying her feet forward. "Hello?" called out the Lady as she navigated through the maze of sheet-covered furniture, the scratching getting steadily noisier. As she progressed, growing ever closer, the sheets gave way to thick, leather bound journals, not much unlike the one Madeleine wrote in. There were heaps upon heaps of them, all the exact same kind, some with much more yellow paper than others, but all identical otherwise.

Finally, Madeleine came upon a bookstand with a journal, just like the rest, propped open and most of the page to the left covered in neat, if not slightly spidery and jagged writing. As she stood there, she read the first line of text on the page, '…_and so he set off from his home, leaving a note for his young wife that he'd return by the eve of Thursday…'_ but before she could read beyond that, the page was suddenly flipped and she blinked in at first fear, than shock, as the black ink in that same handwriting, appeared on the new blank page. The words formed completely on their own, making the scratching noise, like an invisible quill was writing them, and rapidly forming lines upon lines of text.

She watched the words being written, not so much as reading what the letters spelt, but rather trying to comprehend the prospect of how a journal could write itself. Then, something else caught her eye. Amongst the furniture section of the attic, she wouldn't have noticed it, but now it was an odd sight amongst all the journals.

Leaning down, she wrapped her fingers around the sheet that covered it and wrenched back, bringing the sheet around and off along with a shower of dust. Coughing, she fanned the dust away from her face, rubbing her eyes clear, and when she blinked them open once more, her breath caught in her throat in the middle of a cough. Madeleine's indigo eyes widened to become two perfect, terrified circles and she hastened to clap her hands over her mouth, despite being covered in dust, to stop herself from the scream building up in her throat.

Facing her was the most disgusting, grotesque portrait of a man that the young woman's stomach lurched and she swayed for a moment, unsteadily, ready to be very sick, but she gathered her senses and forced herself to inspect it closer.

The portrait was of a man, far older than any man has ever lived, with one or two long strands of fine white hair that clung to his discolored scalp as if by determination alone. The skin of the face was sickly and translucent, looking so fragile that, if anyone were to even blow air softly at it, it would turn into dust and be carried away. The cheeks were sunken in from the lack of teeth, the eyes hollow, as though the eyes had simply fallen out from overuse. Nothing remained of eyebrows, and the clothes the man wore were shreds, mere rags of what had been a fine, black tailored suit at one point.

Before she knew it, she had scooped the white sheet from where she had let it fall and, her hands shaking, she tossed it over the frame, obscuring the corpse-like man from view, although it didn't help in the least to lessen the intensity of it in her mind's eye. Silent tears running down her face, she turned and ran back the way she came faster than she ever knew her feet could carry her.

* * *

><p>AN: And so ends the first Act...leave a review telling what you thought, and I hope you enjoyed!


	2. Act II

**Act II, Scene I**

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Diary,<em>

_ I'm finding it quite hard to write right now, let alone stay calm, but I must record this while it is still fresh in my mind. I was on my way to the library through a new passageway when I found myself in the attic. I know what you're thinking, diary, and I know it was very stupid of me not to leave the moment I arrived, but curiosity was my downfall once more and I ventured in._

_ There were mounds upon mounds of leather bound journals, and amongst them all was a bookstand and a journal that wrote itself—all of them must have written themselves at one point before being completely filled up. I didn't read much of the journal; I was distracted by the fact that it was being filled with words with no ink, quill, or author to be seen. And then, a portrait covered in a white sheet caught my eye, and, being the stupid person I am, I pulled the sheet back to look at the portrait._

_ It was a corpse; a man older than time itself with sunken pits for eyes and skin that had flecked away in some spots. I still cannot wash that image out of my mind. I don't know if I ever will. I ran. I ran away as fast as I possibly could. I ran straight back to my room, locking all my doors and hide in my wardrobe. I am not afraid to confide that in you. I cried. I cried in terror and fear and disgust. I am not ashamed of that either, any living person, man or woman, would have done the same. I can say that with the utmost confidence._

_ But then, later this afternoon, I did something even more stupid than not leaving the attic immediately, or investigating the journal, or looking at that _thing_; I went back. I will admit I ran like the wind. I went up to the attic, found the oldest journal I could, and sprinted right back here like hellhounds ran at my heels. When I flew out of the painting that conceals the passageway, I nearly knocked over Eliza in my haste. It is very fortunate thing that the particular passage also leads to the library, otherwise I would have had a _very_ hard time explaining where I had gotten the book from, although I don't think I'm ever going to use those passages again._

_ Just the mere thought of that horrible corpse portrait just three stories above my head is probably going to keep me awake at night. _

_ I do not know what to make of this whole situation yet and I have yet to read the journal from my second trip to the attic, I might not for quite some time as I think I have used my month's worth of courage. Rest assured, though, it will occupy my thoughts._

_Very frightened,_

_Lady Madeleine of Kirkland_

_(I am still not used to that title yet)_

"Good morning, my Lady," said Eliza the following Tuesday as she entered into the young woman's bedchamber with the traditional breakfast tray, this time laden with a plate of bacon and a fried egg. "This arrived in the mail for you," the housekeeper added after she had handed the tray to Madeleine's awaiting hands, drawing a letter from her apron pocket.

"Thank you," the Lady replied, as she was handed the letter and scanned the envelope, "Ah, it's from mother." Putting aside the piece of bacon she had been working on, Madeleine slid a finger through the envelope, drawing the letter out from within. Absent-mindedly, she picked up her bacon once more as she began to read. "It seems the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland are holding a ball and invited my brother and parents. Apparently their daughter, Millie, has taken a fancy to Alfred."

"Would it be a match that your father would agree to?" asked Eliza as she tidied the room.

"Possibly, if Alfred was in favor of it," Madeleine shrugged as she put aside the letter to turn her full attention back to inhaling the strips of bacon. "But Alfred hates parties so that's probably not going to he—that's it!"

"What's it?" Eliza asked, arching an eyebrow at the younger woman, straightening from retrieving a dress slip that had somehow made its way onto the floor.

"A party! That's what married socialite woman like me do! I can plan the whole entire thing! There will be roast goose and raspberry sorbet for dinner and dancing afterwards, we do have a dance hall somewhere in this manor, don't we?" Madeleine babbled, springing up from her seat in front of her writing desk and beginning to pace about the room.

"My Lady, as good of an idea as this may seem, maybe we should wait until the master returns from his business before making any decisions, he doesn't like surprises—" Eliza began, trying to persuade the younger woman from this rather dangerous idea.

The Lord Kirkland had departed on business once more Sunday afternoon, going to London to see Sir Francis Bonnefoy, Madeleine's father, for a trading renewal agreement between their companies; Bonnefoy owned the Virginia Trading Company, a major trading partner of the East India Trading Company, the one the Lord had single-handedly built up to power, or so it seemed.

"No, but Eliza! That's the point! He's so big on his rules and standards and if I show him that I can be the proper hostess and lady of the house, then the surprise will be worth it! Plus, he travels so often and never relaxes for even a moment, this will give him the chance to meet all his business partners on more friendly terms but not have to worry about the planning of the party," Madeleine replied, grinning in triumph.

"Really, my Lady, I—" Eliza tried again, a look of apprehension across her face.

"Don't worry Eliza, this will work, I promise," Madeleine cut her off, giving her a reassuring smile. The housekeeper just shook her head and sighed.

Later that afternoon found Madeleine seated in Felicia's rather cozy workshop situated just down the hall from the kitchens, both woman reclining in armchairs with piles of papers and swatches of fabric resting in their laps and on the floor and tables about them. "It'll be a summer ball, after all, it is the start of June next week," Madeleine was saying, peering down at a pink sample of silk. "So, we need to go with more pastel colors."

"And flowers! Many, many beautiful flowers!" chimed in Felicia

"Yes!" agreed Madeleine enthusiastically, "All over the dining table and around the house! We can't get them from our own garden though, since we want all the windows and doors open to draw people out to show off our own garden."

"Ve, what a wonderful idea!" Felicia said, clapping her hands in delight, "And, my Lady, I'll make a new gown for you too! Something in a deep, pinky-purple, like a flower!"

"No, really Felicia, that is asking too much of you," Madeleine protested, "You don't have to help with decorations as well as make a dress for me, you have other duties to attend to—"

"My Lady, I insist and that's the last I'm going to say about it!" Felicia said, fixing the blond haired woman with a determined look in her warm brown eyes before she added, "Now wait right there, I need to go find my tape measure, ve!"

Madeleine sighed and grinned despite herself as she watched Felicia spring up, showering swatches and pages of plans as she went. The woman scurried off to one of the cluttered tables of her sewing materials, in which time there was a soft knock and Ludwig peered in. "Guten tag, meine Frau. How are you this morning?"

"Very well, thank you," Madeleine replied with a nod and a cordial smile. Ludwig was as stiff as a board but in an amiable way and somehow through her many cooking excursions she had become friends with the large German man.

"Herr Roderich said that you needed to speak with me?" Ludwig asked as he stepped into the room.

"Ve, hello, my love," called Felicia from the other side of the room as she continued to rummage, seeming to have buried her tape measure under a mountain of fabrics. Ludwig just turned a faint shade of red and mutely waved back.

"Yes, I did," Madeleine nodded before indicating a spare armchair that was relatively clear of any clutter, "Please sit down Ludwig." There was a moment of pause, as the German chef stared at the chair like it was the first time he ever saw one, causing Madeleine to wave her hand at him again, urging him to sit. When he finally did, she had a smile of amusement across her face and she said, "Now, as you may have heard, I am planning a party—a ball—and I need to talk with you about a menu."

"I know that I want a raspberry sorbet for dessert and a light garden salad for the appetizer, but the rest I need suggestions on," Madeleine began. She really had no clue on what to serve during the summer for a party, because, on second thought roast goose was Christmas time and might be a little out of place in June.

Ludwig thought for a moment, and for some reason, there was a faint trace of a smile on his face and a hint of excitement in his blue eyes. Despite Eliza being nervous about the Lord, even she seemed excited for the party and so did Ludwig. It must have been quite a long time since they had hosted a party at the manor that they were so excited for hers. "Well, meine Frau…"

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>"You're in a good mood today," was the dry observation of the Lord Kirkland Friday morning. He had returned from his business meeting with Sir Bonnefoy—a generally happy and obnoxiously talkative man—and had reached a rather satisfactory trading agreement for the East India Trading Company after hours of his patience being thoroughly tested. Although, the meeting did go longer than planned and he arrived home near one in the morning the previous night.<p>

He would have been tempted to sleep in but Felicia needed to tailor his new suit for his visit to Mister Wang, a spice merchant from China, that he had to leave for Friday evening if he wished to make it to Portsmouth in time. He simply did not have any time to waste.

Felicia, who was kneeled on the ground at the base of the block the Lord was perched upon, was humming as she cheerfully guided her needle expertly, sewing the last few stitches on the left pant leg seam. "Hmm-hmm-hmm, a party, a party," was all she hummed in response as she moved to the right leg and flicked her needle through the black fabric. "We're having a party hmm-hmm!"

"What?" the Lord snapped, looking fiercely down at Felicia.

"Oh," Felicia said, stopping in her humming as she looked up at her master, instantly realizing her mistake and the sudden apprehension from it clearly written across her face. "Oh noth-nothing, my Lord! I didn't say anything! I was just humming as I worked! An old song from uh…"

"Felicia, you said we are having a party," the Lord said, obviously not in the least bit believing of the woman's jumble of an excuse.

"No, I didn't," she squeaked as she returned to her work, three-fourth of the way done, her needle moving lightning-fast so that she could beat a hasty retreat.

"Felicia," the Lord said, his voice low and in a warning. The seamstress pretended not to hear as she nipped the thread off with her teeth, and hurriedly gathered her supplies back into her basket. "Felicia." This time the Lord's voice was dangerous, a tone that any of the servants recognized as one that shouldn't be tried. She looked up, fear in her eyes and tears beginning to brim, "Tell me everything."

There was a moment of silence as the woman's lip wobbled and then she finally said, "My Lady was planning a party to celebrate the summer! We've all been helping organize it and please, master, don't be angry with her! It was going to be a surprise for you! And—"

"That is all Felicia, thank you," the Lord said, cutting off the maid in the middle of her sentence as he stepped down from the tailor's block, shrugging his black blazer back over his shoulders, like he was thanking her for her needlework. Felicia blinked at him for a moment before scooping up her sewing basket, bolting from the room, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>"My Lady, my Lady!" shouted Felicia as she raced down the west wing corridor of the second story, holding her sewing kit under one arm while the other hand clutched her skirts, hoisting them well above the modest height so as to lengthen her strides and run faster. When she reached the end of the hallway, she burst into Madeleine's bedchamber and found the Lady at her writing desk, pen in hand and a half-formed letter on the stationary before her.<p>

"Felicia?" Madeleine blinked, confusion clearly written across her face.

"My Lady! I'm so sorry; it's all my fault! I shouldn't have but, but…" she trailed off as she choked on tears.

Brows furrowed in worry, Madeleine hurried over to where her friend stood and ushered her over to take a seat on the side of the bed. "Now," the Lady said as she, too, took a seat, a comforting arm still around the seamstress. "Start from the beginning and tell me what happened."

"I, well," sniffled Felicia, "I was in the Lord's office hemming his new trousers for a new suit he wants to wear for his business meeting tomorrow and I was humming," here she let off a loud sniffle, "I was humming about the party because I am so excited about it and then he asked me what I said. I t-tried to say that it was just a silly song but then he wasn't fooled and I t-told him and ruined the surprise and now he's mad at you because of me and I'm sorry my Lady, it's all my fault!"

"There, there, Felicia," Madeleine shushed, rubbing the woman's arm just as her own mother did whenever she was upset as a child. "It wasn't your fault. My Lord is a very intimidating person, I don't blame you for telling him."

"I kn-know b-but now the party's ruined and everyone was so excited for it," Felicia cried, "And your dress was almos—"

Before the auburn haired woman could finish her sentence, there was a sharp knock on the door and Madeleine called, "Come in." The door soon swung open to reveal the figure of Roderich.

The butler took in the scene with a single glance and announced, "My Lady, the Lord requests you in his office." Felicia let off a choked wail and Madeleine's heart plummeted somewhere in her feet and she felt her cheeks pale.

"Of course, thank you, Roderich," Madeleine nodded after a moment of complete silence, before she got shakily to her feet. Giving Felicia a brave smile, she said, "Don't worry, Felicia, I'll be fine." Even as she spoke it, she knew it was a lie. Just the mere mention of the Lord's office invoked all sorts of fear. She almost would rather spend the night in the attic with the corpse painting than go into the Lord's office for five minutes.

Taking a breath to steel her nerves, she set bravely off, nodding to Roderich as he held the door open for her, and, with as much dignity as possible, swept down the corridor with Roderich following closely behind. When they reached the ground floor of the entranceway, the butler took the lead, as Madeleine had literally not a clue where the Lord's office was.

They went through the two double doors opposite the front entrance, and into the dining room, which overlooked the gardens. Taking a right, the butler bypassed the perfectly polished dining room table that never saw much use and headed straight for the very end of the room where a grand gray stone hearth stood, flanked by doors on both sides. Bringing up a white-gloved hand, the butler knocked three, short times upon the door.

After a pause, in which both the butler and Lady listened intently for a voice within, they heard a muffled, "Enter." The butler twisted the knob and the door swung open to reveal a giant office space, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining most of the walls except for the occasional window along the left wall, yellowed maps pinned to the wall, or the two doors, which, undoubtedly, led to secret passages only the Lord knew.

There was a fireplace to the direct left of the door Roderich and Madeleine entered through, with an ornate couch and two overstuffed armchairs sitting across from it, which may have been the first pieces of furniture in the whole entire house that looked like they were actually used on a daily basis. Then there was the giant, imposing desk that the Lord sat behind, his blond head bent over a mound of parchment. His desk was neat and orderly, like the Lord himself, and across from him were two plain, rather uncomfortable looking chairs.

"My Lord, the Lady Madeleine," the butler announced after clearing his throat.

"Thank you, Roderich, you may go," the Lord said, not even glancing up from his work, a moment after they entered. Madeleine glanced pleadingly at the butler, who gave a weak smile and, as he turned to go, briefly squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. Taking another deep breath, Madeleine turned her attention back to her husband.

He hadn't even looked up at her once, his eyes trained on the parchment before him, and there was five minutes of complete silence as she just stood, her heart pounding so hard that she had no doubt that he could hear it. The office itself was intimidating, but with the Lord sitting in the midst of it, it was as if she was facing final judgment.

"Sit," the Lord said, shortly. The order was so quick and delivered without the slightest glance up that Madeleine nearly missed it, but then she saw the barest flick of his fingers indicating one of the terribly uncomfortable chairs, and, silently, she sat. Madeleine sat in a nervous silence as the Lord finished reading, picked up a quill that sat, waiting in its inkpot and scratched a small note onto the bottom of the parchment. To her brief terror, the scratching of his quill was exactly the same as that of the journal four stories above their heads.

And then, having to restrain herself from letting out a shriek, she noticed that the Lord's handing writing was exactly the same as the spidery, jagged hand writing in the journal. But, before she could think much else on this, the Lord set aside his quill and she found herself staring into those deep, emerald green eyes. She involuntarily gulped and her heart began to pound even more rapidly than before.

"My Lady, it has come to my attention that you were planning a party without my knowledge or consent, is this true?" he said, his voice so calm that it nearly threw Madeleine off her guard. She was expecting a fierce rebuking or a lecture on how a woman should act.

She just nodded mutely in response; she didn't know if her voice would come out in anything more than a squeak, if it came out at all. "And now my curiosity is piqued; why would you think it was good idea to hold such an event without proposing it to me first?"

And now, she was required to speak. Taking a moment to marshal her courage and her reasons, as well as her temporarily misplaced speech capabilities, she took a breath and replied, "It is a woman of my standing's duty to act as hostess for her husband and hold parties. I thought it would a nice surprise for you to have a party but not have to worry about all the planning and arrangements. You travel so often that I thought it might be nice to see all your acquaintances on terms where you aren't discussing purely business."

The Lord blinked at this, like he hadn't expected such reasoning as her motivation. "That is," he paused for a moment, seeming trying to choose the perfect words, "very thoughtful of you. But, I do not like hosting parties. I make a point of avoiding them, if at all possible. Have the invitations been sent out?" His wife shook her. "Good. Then cancel it. Thank you for your time, my Lady. You may return to whatever you were occupying yourself with."

With that, he had turned back to his work, already having lost complete interest in her.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene IV<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Maddie,<em>

_ Happy birthday to us! I know it's a little early, but I needed to send this letter a few weeks ahead because, guess what? I'm coming to visit you for our birthday! Don't get too excited, now, it's still two weeks away! But, I hope that brightens your already sunny June days—is it nice there? It's been brutally hot here in London—and helps you cope with living in that stuffy old house._

_ In other news, Lady Millie (you know, the one that practically begged/dragged me to her ball-thing earlier this month? Yeah, her) is going _extremely_ far out of her way to impress me. (Or, at least that's what Papa said, and I don't know if he's to be completely trusted.) I told her, just to be polite, that her blue dress really brought out her eyes and just the other day Mother said she ordered twenty new dresses in the exact same shade of blue as the one she wore._

_Of course, this wouldn't mean a whole lot to me if I didn't see her at Lady Whitehouse's yesterday (Mother dragged me along for teatime. I was the only male there!) and saw that she _was_ in fact wearing one of her new dresses. And she kept fluttering her eyelashes at me. And she kept suggestively tugging down her neckline. And she kept trying to sit next to me. And she definitely stole one of my tea cookies in an attempt to by 'coy.' (Mother's words, not mine.) Help me, Maddie!_

_ You don't suppose your husband knows any women that don't try _way too_ hard to be coy? (Whatever _that_ means.)_

_ Oh yes, Mother and Papa wanted me to write that they love you very much and all that, and that they are very sorry they can't make it up for your birthday. (But, have no fear; I am being sent along with a carriage-full of presents for you. Dresses, mostly, which mother says she hopes don't fit around the stomach—I don't know what she means by _that_—and don't tell her I told you about your gifts! Just act like you were really surprised when you write to her about them, alright?)_

_ And that's all I have._

_Your loving older brother by one minute,_

_Alfred_

"Hey Eliza," Madeleine said, as she glanced up from the letter she had just received from Roderich. After her visit to the Lord's office four weeks ago, she had been trying to keep as low as a profile as possible and that meant spending most of her time hidden in the kitchen. At the current moment, she was sitting at the long wooden table where the staff took their meals along with Eliza, Felicia, and Roderich; Ludwig was making bread.

"Hmm?" was the housekeeper's response to show she was listening, not bothering to take her gaze off of the wine glass she was currently polishing.

"Do you know if the Lord will be away on business on July fourth?" Madeleine asked.

"Why, is your lover coming to visit?" Eliza asked, nonchalantly, making Felicia giggle and Roderich give his wife a disapproving look.

"No, my brother," Madeleine shook her head, smiling at the housekeeper.

Shrugging, the brunette woman said, "I haven't the faintest; the only person that ever seems to know when he's here and when he isn't, is the master himself."

"Yes, he'll be here," Roderich replied after a beat, turning away from his wife—a frown at her impertinent comments about their master on his face—to nod in confirmation to Madeleine. "Do you want me to go and deliver the message that your brother will be arriving?"

"Yes, thank you, Roderich. But you don't have to go right this moment. You can tell him when next you see him," the Lady replied, with a grateful smile but also not wanting to make the man have to walk through the labyrinth of tunnels just to tell the Lord that simple message.

"Ve, my Lady, what is your brother like?" Felicia asked, as she set aside her mending of Feliks' socks to lean eagerly forward.

"Well," Madeleine began, "He is my older twin brother by one minute and he never lets me forget it. We look very much alike and he likes to laugh quite a bit. He is charismatic when he wants to be, but most of the time he's just obnoxious and loud. He jokes around too much and is utterly petrified by any eligible woman trying to flirt with him."

Felicia giggled in delight, "He sounds very nice."

"Careful there, Felicia, you might make Ludwig jealous," Eliza teased. This caused all four of the occupants of the table to turn and look at Ludwig over their shoulders, who turned beet red.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>"My dear," the Lord said as he entered into the main hall from the dining room and his office, striding over to stand next to his wife. He had taken to calling her that phrase ever since Roderich delivered the message that Alfred was to arrive on July third, almost as if he were getting used to referring to her as something other than the stiff 'My Lady.' Madeleine found it discomforting to say the least.<p>

When he reached her, he gently kissed her cheek before asking as he pulled away and took her arm, "Is your brother to arrive soon?" Madeleine stiffened, not from being disgusted that he situated her hand in the crook of his arm or kissed her cheek but because she was positively determined _not_ to mess up.

"Very soon, he wrote saying that he would arrive by one o'clock," she replied, trying her very best to be the model image of the perfect lady. She glanced over at the grandfather clock, only to realize that Eliza said it had been forever stuck at four o'clock and that she really meant to have it fixed. The Lord nodded, and, just then, the door swung open and Roderich entered, suitcase in hand, and he stood aside as a young man bounded into the entrance hall.

He was tall, taller than even Roderich or the Lord Kirkland, and his blond hair was ruffled from being stuck under a top hat—which he only barely remembered to take off his head—and he wore a finely tailored traveling suit. A bright smile, showing off all his teeth, was stretched across his face. It was like Madeleine was looking in a mirror, but only if she had shorter hair.

" Baby sister! There you are!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the hall as he caught sight of her. Forgetting the suitcase he carried and his top hat, he rushed over to her, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her about in his excitement. "I missed you so much, kid! Letters aren't enough!"

"Yes, hello Alfred, I missed you too," Madeleine laughed as she let him spin her once or twice before saying, "Alfred! Alfred, please put me down on solid ground, I think I'm getting dizzy."

"Oh, uh, sorry," he said sheepishly as he set her back down. Madeleine swayed for a moment, the world still spinning about and slowly stopping, her hand instinctively grabbing onto the closest thing—the Lord's arm, as it happened—to steady herself.

"It's alright," she grinned as she finally gained her orientation back, "And Alfred, this, as you remember, is my husband, Lord Kirkland."

"Of course I remember," Alfred said, cheerfully, as he accepted the Lord's offered hand, vigorously pumping it up and down. "My father was telling me how you visited our townhouse earlier this month and it's a real shame you didn't stay that long. I've heard you're a master horseback rider and I was wanting to challenge you to a race."

"Were you, now?" the Lord replied, with an amiable smile, "Well, I was trying to convince my dearest Madeleine to let me go hunting tomorrow to get a fresh pheasant for your birthday dinner. Maybe she would be more lenient if you worked on her as well so that we can get a race in while we hunt?"

"Ah, come on, Maddie," Alfred said, turning back to his sister, "You can't get between a man and his hunting!" With this, the younger of the men slung a friendly arm around the Lord's shoulders and Madeleine saw his green eyes give the slightest of twitches before returning to its perfect mask of a gentleman.

"It's with good intentions, she's always so worried about me getting hurt," the Lord Kirkland disregarded. Madeleine sincerely hoped her face didn't show the look of pure disbelief as she looked away from her husband and brother, catching the eye of Roderich, who stood just inside the entrance hall and was red in the face, trying very hard to hold in his laughter. "She's an exquisite wife."

Before Alfred could say anything to turn this situation more awkward than it already was—the painful thing was that he didn't even realize it—Eliza appeared from a servant's passage and said, "Excuse me, my Lord, Master Bonnefoy's room is ready."

"Thank you, Eliza," the Lord nodded to the housekeeper before turning back to his brother-in-law, "Alfred, if you'll follow Eliza, the housekeeper, she'll show you to your room so that you can get settled in."

"Well, I'll see you two as soon as my suitcase is unpacked then," Alfred smiled at then, giving Madeleine a swift wink as he turned to follow Eliza as she said 'right this way,' carrying his suitcase under one arm and his top hat under the other, trotted his way up the staircase.

The Lord watched him go, an unreadable, yet somehow pleasant, look on his face. As soon as Alfred despaired onto the second story landing and down the hallway, he turned to his wife and said, "My dear, your brother is remarkably like your father."  
>She blinked at him, nodding mutely as she honestly didn't know how she was supposed to respond to this. She couldn't decide if that comment was a compliment or an insult.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>Madeleine didn't know how her husband managed it, but somehow, through every obnoxious and loud thing Alfred had done that afternoon and evening, the Lord had simply smiled and replied with a witty remark. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that they were becoming friends, but then she remembered Lord Kirkland didn't <em>have<em> any friends and she had witnessed the barest slips of his mask when he let his eyes twitch or his mouth briefly twist into a scowl.

At that moment, she was reclining on her bed, finally having been released from her corset that Eliza somehow stuffed her into that morning, and thinking how marvelous it was to be able to breath as deep as one desired. Then, there was knock on the door, and she called a sleepy, "Come in," thinking that it was Eliza, returning to tell her a message from the Lord or retrieve something she had forgotten.

Much to her surprise, and happiness, it was the face of Alfred that peered in instead. "Hey Maddie! It took me forever to find your room. I think I opened all the doors on this floor at least twice," he said as he stepped into the room, kicking off his shoes as he closed the door behind him.

"Alfred, what are you doing here?" Madeleine asked, arching an eyebrow at him as he flopped onto the bed beside her like they used to when they were children.

"Well, obviously I had to chat with my sister without your husband hanging around! We've got to have a bro-sis chat like we always do!" Alfred replied, like this was common knowledge to everyone and anyone, while Madeleine just rolled her eyes and shook her head good-naturedly.

"What do you want to talk about then?" she asked, finally giving into the fact that she was not going to get rid of her brother anytime soon and she might as well talk with him while he was there. "Oh, wait, so how is _dear_ Millie?"

"Ugh, _her,_" Alfred said, saying this like it was the most hateful subject on earth. "She's _clinging_ to me, Maddie! _Clinging! _Mother dragged me to a party at some person or another's house and she was _literally_ attached to my arm the _whole _night! And her father has already seriously talked to Papa about a match and he is _actually_ considering it! And Mother is _not_ helping!"

Madeleine had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling at her brother's plight. When her laughing fit settled enough and she could actually remove her hand without the danger of laughing at Alfred, she stated, "Father won't make you marry a woman you don't even mildly like."

"Papa did for you," Alfred pointed out before adding, thoughtfully, "Although this _is_ different. I mean, at least _he's_ a likeable enough guy. Millie is just obnoxious and tries _way _too hard."

Madeleine had to restrain a spiteful laugh when he said that. The Lord _seemed_ to be likable enough, but his real personality was something entirely different, a man with a heart of stone and his only care being money. Maybe all Alfred had to do was get to know Millie of Northumberland; he may be lucky and find that her true personality was a nice one, unlike her, who seemed to have drawn the short end of the stick.

"Maybe you just have to get to know her, Alfred. She's obviously trying to impress you, maybe you have to show her that she doesn't need to and she can just be herself," Madeleine pointed out, trying to stay optimistic.

She knew it had been just Alfred pouting about her leaving home, but she often wished that he had been more supportive of her marriage initially, despite him swiftly forgetting what misgivings he did have afterwards; so, now, at least she was going to try to support him in, what may be, his own arranged marriage.

"That's the problem, Maddie, that's _all_ her personality is. She had her sights set on Ian before he married Elizabeth, and all she ever did was cling to his arm and flutter her eyelashes at him like she does with me!" Alfred protested.

"Are you just mad that you were her second choice?" Madeleine asked, arching an eyebrow and hardly restraining a smile from spreading across her face.

"No," Alfred replied, his lower lip sticking out in a very unconvincing pout, "And that doesn't even matter at this point! The Duke of Northumberland is one of the _lead_ importers of cotton from the United States! He's already a major trader with Papa's company and with this marriage…" Alfred trailed off in despair.

"Is there any possible way to avoid this?" asked Madeleine, now well and truly concerned. Alfred and his dramatic declarations up until this point had only amused her, but now she was worried. Her brother's head hung and Madeleine's heart ached for him, and it wasn't because she had a 'twin-link' with him. She knew perfectly well what it was like to marry someone she didn't love and her brother didn't deserve that. No one did.

"Only if I found a woman whose marriage would be more profitable or if someone with real power strongly advised against it," Alfred replied, drearily, before adding, "Somebody like your husband."

Madeleine nibbled on her lip. It would most likely be too much to even think of asking her husband for help on this issue. This match of her brother's would most likely benefit the East India Trading Company through the connection of the Lord's marriage to Madeleine in the long run, and he would recognize that. He would never possibly let a chance to create a profit pass him by.

"Alfred, I—" Madeleine began, looking away from his face, not able to stand the expression on it. "My husband is…" For a brief moment, she considered telling her brother. Telling him about the Lord never having a proper conversation with her, never treating her as a wife. For pity's sake, she never had heard him say her proper name once!

"I understand, Maddie, he's really busy and you don't see him very often," Alfred nodded back. "Don't worry about it, okay? You have enough to worry about with running this huge house. But, I probably should let you get to sleep. Tomorrow's our birthday, after all!"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek good night before retrieving his shoes and padding from the room, waving to her before he silently slipped into the hall. She watched the closed door for a moment, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice grip before she let out a long breath and turned to her candle, puffing out a stream of air so that it snuffed the flame.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene VII<strong>

* * *

><p><em>'April 23, 1438. The young Lord of Kirkland, a title that belonged to a far away land from the current territory of the Ottoman Empire that he traveled in, took up board in one of the majestic palazzos of an Italian merchant and acquaintance that lined the banks of the Bosphorus strait. The Italian was a well enough sort, if not a little temperamental and he certainly had a colorful choice in words, but he had the same aims as the Lord; he worked solely for the gaining and multiplying of his already vast fortune, making the two excellent business partners.<em>

_ But, unlike the Italian, the Lord had one desire that was even greater than the want of money and on the morning of April the twenty-third, he set out from the palazzo for the grand open-air bazaars of Constantinople. He walked with a treasure only he knew of sewn into the inside of his tunic, right above his heart. He trusted no one, not even the Italian, with this single precious gem and carried it with him at all times, sleeping with it clutched in his hands at night or in a hidden pocket of his clothes. _

_ Walking through the bazaar, he scoffed at the women that were similar to animated skeletons, begging him for a single copper coin, and kicking them away when they came to close or a tradesman bartering his wares. The Lord brushed them all off; he was above them. He was powerful. He was rich._

_ Nothing caught his interest—it was very uncommon for something to do so—until he was just about to leave. A rich, youthful voice called out of a shaded stall in the Lord's own native tongue, "You there! My dear Lord of Kirkland; youth cannot be bought with coin. But, it can be traded." _

_ This stopped the Lord in his tracks. He turned slowly, peering into the darkness of the stall that was littered with oriental and Persian rugs alike, a thick cloud of scents assaulting his nose. A deep, honey-brown skinned hand studded with gold and jewels appeared from the darkness, beckoning the Lord near. Despite himself and his airs, the Lord Kirkland approached._

_ His eyes were squinted as he stepped into the shade and they soon adjusted to the dim lighting. He found himself faced with a darker skinned man who peered up at him through an ornate gold and white mask. A top of this mysterious man's head was a white turban while his clothes were made of even finer fabric than that of the Lord's. They were brilliant scarlet, sapphire, and emerald designs and it only took a mere moment for the Lord to realize that his clothes had tiny jewels sewn into them so that they shimmered when they caught the stray beam of sunlight._

_ The ringed hand indicated for the Lord to take a seat and he did as much. Soon, the rich voice that drew him in, obviously belonging to this man, spoke once more, "You, Lord of Kirkland, are in search of eternal youth." It was not a question, rather just commenting upon a known truth._

_ "How did you—?"_

_ "Know your name?" the mysterious man asked, finishing the question like he knew it was going to be asked. "I have been expecting you for quite some time. You are to walk past at precisely noon, when the sun is at its highest on the twenty-third day of what you call April and I call Nisan with the single desire of eternal, immortal youth and the price for it over your heart. You are to make a deal with me."_

_ "How did you know about the amethyst?" the Lord demanded, his hand immediately closing about the treasure—the stolen amethyst from the crown of the King of Egypt—to reassure himself that it was there._

_ "I knew you had the price, not what it was," the man replied, only barely moving his head to fix his gaze briefly upon where the Lord's hand clutched the gem before returning his stare to meet the other man's. _

_ "What is this deal you spoke of?" Then demanded the Lord._

_ "It is a deal that I rarely make, a trade. I will grant you your greatest desire and in exchange, you shall forfeit your greatest treasure," the man explained._

_ "How do I know you will grant me youth? For all I know, you're just scamming me," the Lord replied, his eyes narrowed accusingly._

_ "Give me your hand," the man replied. After a wary moment, the Lord offered his right hand, the one that wasn't still holding the gem through the material of his shirt. The man waved his own ring-studded hands over it, muttering as he did. Then he sat back and commanded, "Now look." _

_ The Lord drew his hand back and stared in horror at it. His hand was wrinkled and covered in liver spots. Like it had aged eighty years while the rest of him hadn't. There was a moment of silence as the Lord considered this. He now had no doubt in his mind of this man's abilities, but there was only one problem that stood in his way. "Could I trade anything else? I have more gold then you could ever hope to have, mountains of it. I can make you as rich as a king. What good is a purple-colored chunk of rock when you could—"_

_ But the man cut him off, saying simply, "A man's greatest treasure for his greatest desire." There was a moment of silence and then there was a ripping noise as the Lord tore open the hidden pocket and produced the glittering amethyst gem. _

_ And so, it was then that the Lord's hand returned to its proper condition and time was frozen for that single man and the amethyst was placed into the waiting hands of the mysterious man that wore a mask and had no name. _

_ But, as the Lord left the tent, he had a plan forming in the back of his immortal mind. _

_ That night, from the palazzo of the Italian merchant, stole a black clad man under specific instructions from the Lord. He crept through the now deserted streets of Constantinople. He snuck past dosing guards and into the open-air market. Shoppers still lingered about, but most stalls had closed their counters for business. Following the same route as the Lord had, the man in black found the masked man's shaded tent. He plucked from the sleeping man's hand the amethyst that glimmered in the faint moonlight._

_ But, as the thief stole back to the palazzo, the masked man knew that his prediction had come completely true and his plan took place._

_ He would make the gift of eternal youth a curse. He would make it so he could never rest until his greatest treasure was no longer the amethyst stone or the money that the Lord had offered to him. The price of theft was punishment and the price of eternal youth is forever feeling the ache to record, seeing the repulsion as…" _

Madeleine hurriedly book-marked her page as she heard the approaching footsteps towards her bedroom chamber; bolting to her writing desk and wrenching the bottom drawer open, hurriedly slipping the journal under the false bottom. She had only just gathered her courage enough to read the journal she had retrieved from the attic over a month ago that morning and it would have been quite a waste if she were to be caught with it the first time she dare read it.

Right when she slammed the desk drawer closed, there was knock on the door and she called a hasty, "Come in."

Eliza peered in and said, with furrowed eyebrows, "Oh bother, you're not dressed. The master is insisting you all have breakfast together in the dining room. Best to hurry and change into one of your morning gowns."

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene VIII<strong>

* * *

><p>"Ah! I'm going to miss you so much, Maddie!" Alfred said as he squeezed his younger sister into a tight grip the morning of July fifth as he stood just outside his waiting carriage that would take him back to London. "You need to come visit us soon! All our little siblings are missing you too!"<p>

"I will Alfred, don't worry!" laughed Maddie as she hugged him back.

Releasing her, he said, "Don't forget to write mother and tell her how much you absolutely _loved_ those new dresses."

"Way ahead of you," Madeleine replied as she produced a letter to her mother, neatly tucked into an envelope, positively gushing over the beautiful new dresses, from the pocket of her morning gown.

"Oh, you're good. I'll make sure she gets it," Alfred grinned, accepting the letter and slipping it into the pocket of his own trousers. Turning to the Lord Kirkland, he said as he offered his hand, "I expect you to take good care of my sister while I'm away."

"Naturally, I will," he replied with an affable smile as he accepted the hand and shook it.

"And Maddie, you let him hunt once and awhile! He was doing it well before you got married, and he hasn't broken anything yet," Alfred laughed, causing the Lord to chuckle as well. Madeleine just let out a faint, half-hearted laugh. Turning to look at the carriage, Alfred sighed. "Well, I guess this is my carriage and my cue to go. Goodbye, Maddie, take care of yourself and you, too, sir."

The Lord and Alfred exchanged nods. Then the taller of the two men climbed into his carriage and, with a last wave through the window, the carriage jolted off, bouncing off down the gravel drive until the Kirkland woods swallowed it up.

Turning away from peering at the sight of where her brother's carriage had vanished, Madeleine looked over at her husband's contemplative face. She thought of the journal entry she read the morning before. The Lord Kirkland in the story must have been his ancestor, probably the one that built the house, since the tale was supposed to take place in the fourteen hundreds, making him the five times great grandfather of the current Lord.

And then, she thought of something else. Alfred's words echoing in her mind, _'Somebody like your husband.' _The only one that could stop Alfred's inevitable marriage to Millie of Northumberland that Madeleine could possibly convince to help was this cold, indifferent man standing beside her, whose arm she rested her hand on. But, then again, he _was_ her husband. There was no harm in at least trying.

"My Lord," Madeleine began.

"Yes, my Lady?" he replied, his gaze quickly switching from staring out at the scene of the front lawn to look at his wife's face. He was back to referring to her in his cold, indifferent manner.

Taking a gulp, she said, "I don't know if my brother talked to you about this—and let it be known he didn't set me up to this—but he is being forced into a marriage to the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland. She has a rather lackluster personality and constantly throws herself on him."

"I do not see a problem with this match, my Lady. It is a smart arrangement with the Duke importing cotton from the States and Sir Bonnefoy's own Virginia Bay Trading Company," the Lord replied, complete calmness in his voice.

"Yes, but the problem is—" Madeleine began, trying to persuade her husband although she knew it was already a lost cause.

"If you'll excuse me, my Lady," he interrupted, "I must return to my work." He bowed to her as he released her hand, always the gentleman. Propriety.

"Of course," she said, faintly, her voice deflated and small.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Poor Alfred, your life isn't very fun at all, is it? In other news, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'm so happy you are enjoying thus far! And, I have decided that whoever can spot the two referenced Hetalia characters (they aren't named) in this chapter, I will write a one-shot of the pairing of their choosing! (Het, though, as I prefer it and it is specialty of mine. I was going to do this contest with another of my stories, but that didn't really happen...) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review!


	3. Act III

**Act III, Scene I**

* * *

><p><em>My Lady,<em>

_ I am spending the day in the woods, hunting, and shall return home before dinner._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Kirkland_

Madeleine pocketed the note as she peered out into the corridor. She had promised Eliza that she would be down to the kitchens later on that morning after taking a quick stop in the library to 'research something' as she ushered the housekeeper out of the room, bearing the empty breakfast tray. After quickly retrieving the hidden journal, she rushed to her door and checked to make sure the coast was clear and that Eliza hadn't lingered about.

The housekeeper wasn't in sight and she hurried from her bedchamber, crossing to the oil painting of Westminster. She had been waiting for a note from the Lord for nearly two weeks—surprisingly he hadn't gone away on business in all that time—so as she could sneak into the attic to return the journal she had finished reading and find another one or two. She dare not venture up there with him in the manor, despite him never coming out of his rooms, and the idea of going up during the night was terrifying to say the least. She couldn't stomach the corpse-painting in broad daylight; she didn't even want to _begin_ to imagine how it would look in ghostly moonlight.

So, she stole into the passage, taking the memorized route up the first flight and then turning right, hurriedly climbing the long winding staircase and onto the attic landing. Cautiously lifting the latch, she slid the door open to peer within. The attic was just as she left if, the only difference being that more dust seemed to have accumulated onto the sheet-covered furniture and the worn leather covers of the journals.

Replacing the journal she held in her hands back onto the heap she had found it in, she retrieved the two underneath it, happy to see that the dates took off where the previous ones had left. As she turned to go, she paused and looked about the attic at the covered frame and the bookstand it leaned against. There was the journal, much farther along in its pages, if it even was the same one. For a brief moment, she was sorely tempted to go and read what the journal was writing.

But then, she shook her head, clearing her thoughts of such ideas and turned, hurrying back to her bedchamber to hide the journals and read them later.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon, Madeleine sat in her window seat, one of the journals resting in her lap and a quill in hand, should anyone look up at her in her perch, they would only think she was writing in her own diary and not reading from a hundred year old one she had found in the attic, collecting dust. She had been steadily working through the first few pages of the journal for a few hours when a sudden movement on the edge of the back lawn caught her eye. From amongst the trees was galloping Feliks, astride one of the horses, and he clutched the reins of a handsome hunting mount.<p>

As they neared, Madeleine realized that, barely still on the horse Feliks led, was the Lord, his right pant leg stained red and his head was bobbing about as his horse moved, barely hanging onto consciousness. As they reached the edge of the lawn, Ludwig, followed closely by Felicia, Roderich, Eliza, and Vash came rushing out. Vash was dressed in riding clothes, most likely the one who returned to the manor to tell of the Lord's state.

Ludwig, being the burly man that he was, easily plucked the Lord from the saddle of his mount and set off at a determined walk, as fast as he dared to move, with the other man cradled carefully in his arms. Felicia hurried behind him along with Eliza while Roderich stayed to speak with Feliks, Vash taking the reins of the horses—both lathered in sweat—and leading them in the direction of the stables.

Springing up, Madeleine hastily hid the journal she was reading underneath her bed covers—a temporary hiding spot—and threw her quill onto the desk before she hiked up her skirts and hurried from her bedchamber, barreling down the corridor and nearly tripping down the front staircase in her haste. She didn't need to think twice about where they would have put the Lord. His office. Hurrying through the dining room, she burst into the office, which didn't seem nearly as threatening of a place anymore.

Lying on the ornate couch, which had been covered with blankets, was the Lord Kirkland. A deep cut ran on the outside of his right thigh while an angry red bump was forming on the right side of his head. Eliza was just situating a couple of pillows under his head—although he was clearly unconscious at the moment—while Felicia seemed to have gone into a panic and Ludwig was standing, blinking. Obviously no one knew how to care for their master's injuries.

"Has someone sent for the doctor yet?" Madeleine questioned as she took a quick stock of the situation and knowing it was up to her as Lady of the house, and the injured man's wife, to take control.

"No, my Lady, we can't possibly do that! The master specifically ordered that should he ever get injured that under no circumstances was a doctor to be called," Eliza replied, shaking her head with a very serious look on her already flustered face.

Madeleine opened her mouth to argue this, but seemed to think better of it, as it would just be a waste of time, and instead said, "Fine, but I need warm water, rubbing alcohol, towels, washcloths, bandages, and Felicia, you need to you get your sewing kit." There was beat when the three servants just stared at the Lady before she said a forceful, "Hurry!"

The three started, all scrambling out of the room as they ran off to different parts of the house, shouting at one another for what each of them were to get. Sighing, Madeleine kneeled down and took up her husband's hands. As soon she did as much, there was a violent jerk throughout the Lord's whole body, as if he were being struck by lightning, and she hastily replaced his hands were they had been resting.

Gingerly, cringing at herself for being so rash in her actions, she peered down at his wrists and saw faint purple and black bruises were beginning to form. "They're broken, or, at least, sprained," she muttered.

She didn't know why she was helping him. She felt nothing for him; she had come to accept that a divorce was very far out of the question—her family were devote Anglicans—so all that was left was indifference. And now, it was that same detachment that she supposed doctors felt for patients but also the want to aid them in whatever way possible.

That was the only reason why she was helping him: because she couldn't bear to see anyone, even _him,_ in pain.

A few moments later, Ludwig appeared with an arm full of washcloths, towels, and bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol perched on top of the hazardous heap. Obviously, somewhere in this manor was a medicine cupboard that Madeleine had yet to discover. Accepting the stack and placing it on the carpet next to where she kneeled, she said, "Thank you, Ludwig."

The blond man nodded in response, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as he gazed down at the unconscious face of his master. Soon after, Felicia entered, holding the door open for Eliza, who carefully carried a basin of water, doing well not to spill so much as a drop. Indicating that everyone was to place their materials beside Ludwig's pile, Madeleine soon found herself surrounded by a worried huddle of observers and ready to clean her husband's leg—the first time she had actually touched him in two weeks.

Shoving this thought out of her mind, she ripped away the right riding pant leg on the thigh, around the cut, exposing the cut as well as the skin around it that was stained red from the still bleeding wound. Hurriedly, she set to work; dipping a cloth into the basin filled nearly to the brim with warm water. She dabbed delicately at the wound, absorbing as much blood as possible, before wiping off the blood from around the skin, leaving the cut clean.

"Eliza, could you get me something to put dirty washcloths in?" the Lady asked, glancing up at the housekeeper, bloodied washcloth in hand.

"I'll take that and get it started on being cleaned and find you a hamper, too," the brunette nodded, taking the cloth from Madeleine's offered hand before rushing off once more.

Grabbing another towel, she unscrewed the rubbing alcohol bottle, setting the cap carefully aside, before tipping it upside down into the washcloth. After setting the bottle safely aside, where it wouldn't be accidentally knocked over, she rubbed the biting cleaner into the wound, expecting a hissing noise of pain from the sting, but of course receiving none as the Lord was unconscious.

"Now, Felicia, I need you to get a needle with black thread ready," Madeleine ordered as she was nearly done with cleaning the wound.

"Ve, okay," Felicia nodded, trying her best to sound calm and hurriedly did as she was told. A moment later, she reported, "It's ready."

"Good, now come over here," Madeleine said, beckoning the seamstress over to kneel on the floor beside her. "Felicia, I need you to sew together this wound of the Lord's."

"Ve, what? I can't do that! What if I hurt him or—" Felicia began to protest, a panicked look suddenly across her face.

"Yes, you can, Felicia!" interrupted Madeleine, confidently. "You have to. My Lord is in a lot of pain right now and it won't stop and properly heal if you don't sew this."

"Well, alright," Felicia agreed, hesitantly, obviously still apprehensive of the task that was set before her. Smiling, Madeleine gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before clamoring to her feet, vacating her spot so that Felicia could have an easier angle to be able to sew.

As the Lady stood, she noticed Roderich had entered the room at some point without her even noticing. Upon realizing that she was blinking at him, he asked, "Is there anything I could possibly do to help, my Lady?"

"Actually I need to know where medical books are in the library," Madeleine replied, just realizing exactly what she needed. "Both my Lord's wrists are broken or, at least sprained, as well as a bad bump forming on his head and I need to read on how to mend them properly."

"I know just what book you need, my Lady, I'll go retrieve it for you," the butler replied, a slight smile on his face that he was being useful in this time of crisis coming across his face.

"Thank you, Roderich," she nodded before turning back to see Felicia, with a look of pure determination and concentration, was sewing the wound together in tiny, neat stitches. Her work was so miniscule that, when she was done, it just looked like a line of ink across the Lord Kirkland's thigh. "Excellent work, Felicia," complimented the Lady sincerely as she took the seamstresses place kneeling on the floor.

"Thank you, my Lady," she replied, ducking her head modestly. Madeleine then retrieved a roll of the bandages and loosely wrapped in about her husband's leg, just to keep the wound stationary.

She leaned back on her heels, staring at her work for a moment. "How did you know how to do that?" asked Eliza, having returned with a hamper, as promised, in hand to find the leg injury treated and bandaged.

"Thank you," Madeleine said as she accepted the hamper and tossed the washcloth she used for the rubbing alcohol in it before continuing, "Alfred had many cuts and bruises when we were little and he was so afraid of what Mother would say if he went to the maids for help, because they would certainly tell her, that he always came to me. So, I learned."

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>That night, Madeleine was seated on one of the armchairs with a mug of tea in one hand and the other holding a sheet of parchment that was covered in neat handwriting of some merchant apart of the East India Trading Company reporting some business deal to the Lord. After setting both the wrists and putting ice on the angry bump on his head, Madeleine had noticed the large amount of paperwork resting on her husband's desk and taken to sifting through it.<p>

She knew that the Lord would not be in the least bit pleased, when he regained consciousness, to find that business had gone to a complete standstill for the day. So, she had decided, since she was the Lady of the house and her father had raised her in the world of business and trading, that she was the perfect one to fill in. The report she currently was reading was the last one she needed to read for the evening.

Taking a sip of her tea, she glanced up to see Felicia entering the room carrying a tray laden with the Lord's dinner. It looked like a bowl of Ludwig's famous pot roast—made so only from the prompting of Madeleine's initial cooking venture—from the way it steamed and gave off a heavenly smell of gravy, meat, and carrots, making Madeleine's stomach grumble. And, much to her great happiness, there were two bowls.

"Ah, dinner," she said rhetorically, as she smiled up from the report—it was perfect timing as she had just finished reading—and set it onto the little stand next to her chair. "Thank you, Felicia."

The seamstress nodded in response, a cheery smile trying to take occupation on her face but it wasn't quite successful, as she asked, "Has he not showed any signs of waking up?"

"No, and it's probably a good thing too," Madeleine replied, shaking her head as she dug her spoon into her dinner. After she took a bite, a smile curling onto her face from it, she added, "He's in a lot of pain right now from his wrists and leg, probably head too."

Felicia nodded mutely as she turned her vision to rest on the Lord's sleeping face. He looked so relaxed, something he never normally was. His usual expression worn around the manor whenever he regarded someone was a scowl or, on a very rare occasion, a smirk. But now, his mouth was a neutral line, if maybe a little curled into a smile, and his eyes weren't narrowed as they often were. He was always handsome, but now, for some reason, Madeleine could only describe as eternally youthful.

"Felicia, I've been meaning to ask," the Lady said, after a pause, "Why aren't there any portraits of the Lord's family around the manor? All the painting are only of buildings or landscapes." It was an oddity, she had come to notice, that even in the office there was only a painting of the Parliament building hanging over the fireplace. The only portrait she _had_ seen was of the corpse-man, but that was stowed away in the attic. Usually old family manors, like the Kirkland estate, were filled with portraits of family members long dead while there were none to be had in the whole entire house.

"Oh, that's because they all were destroyed in the fire," Felicia replied.

"What fire?" Madeleine asked, knotting her eyebrows together.

"The one that burnt down the old manor and the master then built this estate," Felicia answered like this was common knowledge before she faulted and said, "I mean the, uh, inside was burned and, uh, he had to have the inside, uh, redone. Yeah. That's it."

Madeleine stared at the seamstress, who was red from embarrassment, not believing whatever she was trying to say to cover whatever she had slipped on. The Lady wasn't quite sure of what to make of the accidental information the seamstress had given her, but she did know that it confirmed that this manor, or its Lord, were more than just a cavernous home owned by a greedy man.

"I better go, I need to finish up some mending. I'll leave the master's dinner in case he wakes up," Felicia said after a moment, hurrying out of the room without waiting for Madeleine's consent. The blond woman just watched her go, a theory so outlandish that it couldn't possibly be true, forming in her mind.

She shook her head. That was just _too_ bizarre to even consider.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene IV<strong>

* * *

><p>A week sluggishly slipped by, everyday would find Madeleine in the Lord's office, either seated in her favorite armchair—which had become known as such and was strictly off limits for anyone else to sit in—or behind the Lord's desk, keeping the account books or reading and replying to the reports that were delivered in the early morning hours every day.<p>

It was a welcome break that she had something to do, as her husband would regain consciousness enough to be given food before he dropped back off, barely even fully awakening. She often stayed in the office into the early hours of the morning in her armchair, trying to finish up that day's work or keeping watch over the sleeping Lord. At those times, whoever was supposed to be on night shift would forcibly haul the Lady back up to her own chambers.

To an outsider, it would have appeared that Madeleine was deeply in love with the Lord or that she was beginning, at least, to like him, and, they would have been incorrect. The manor staff, having served the Lord all their lives, knew better. They knew it that she was just doing her duty as a Lady, and that's all it amounted to. She supposed it was partially true that she cared for him in a way that a doctor did a patient that they had been tending for some time, but that was the absolute limit.

Late into the evening on the seventh day, Eliza, with the help of Ludwig, had carried a sleeping Madeleine back up to her own room, and was posted in the opposite armchair of the one the Lady usually sat in. Needlework sat in her lap, quite forgotten, as she blinked at the leaping flames of the fire in its hearth, savoring the warmth they produced.

Then she heard a feeble cough and her gaze immediately snapped over to the form of the Lord only to see that his green eyes were open and that he opened his mouth to groan, raising his left hand to his head only to find that there was cast wrapped around the wrist and that it stung to move, hissing he replaced his hand where it had been resting. After a moment he muttered, "Ugh, my head." Eliza smiled despite herself; she knew that he had finally awoken well and fully.

"My Lord, you're awake!" she said, not able to contain her excitement and relief.

"Yes and with a splitting headache," he snapped back, irritably, closing his eyes. He paused and then asked, in a calmer voice, "What happened?"

"Your horse was spooked while you were out hunting and threw you. You landed badly on some sharp rocks, gashing your thigh, injuring both your wrists, and receiving a nasty bump on the head," Eliza replied, before adding, "Oh yes, you've been out for about a week."

This made the Lord let out a sigh of disgust, "My work is terribly behind. The merchants probably think I'm dead and have already celebrated by selling off all my stocks." Before Eliza could reply, he continued on, "You didn't call a doctor, did you?"

"No, sir," the housekeeper responded, dutifully.

"Good. I suppose a thank you is in order for patching me up and taking care of me," the Lord said, slowly, almost as if it pained him to be saying those words.

Eliza shook her head and said, "You should be thanking the Lady, not me, my Lord. She's the one that bandaged you and has been keeping watch over you. We only just banished her to her rooms to get some rest. And, she's been taking care of your book keeping and running things, business as usual."

There was a pause of stunned silence, which took Eliza by surprise; rarely anything made the Lord speechless. Then, he cracked open an eyelid to look his housekeeper in the eyes and asked, just in confirmation, "She did?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, nodding in affirmation. The Lord closed his eyes again, obviously thinking about this latest development. "Do you want me to get one of your books?" The Lord wordlessly nodded and Eliza rose from her seat in the armchair, hurriedly retrieving the accounts book from the desktop and holding it so her master could read from it. When he moved to hold it, she shook her head, making a few brown curls escape from her hair kerchief, as she said, "The Lady has forbidden you from using your hands. Your wrists need to heal and it would hurt too much for it to be even worth it."

Rolling his eyes at this, but not arguing this point, the Lord returned his hands to their comfortable position resting on his stomach. His green eyes darted along the lines of numbers and neatly written notes and names beside them. The calculations were correct as were the balancing and distributing of the Company's budget. "Let me see the manor's accounting book," he finally said after a moment of further inspection.

The housekeeper hastily did as she was told and soon, the Lord's green eyes had scanned those lines as well, only to find that it was neatly and orderly kept. The spending kept well below the manor's budget but still balanced appropriately. He had to admit, he was impressed.

Lord Kirkland did not know many men, let alone women, that kept books up to his standards, and after inspecting the replying to reports and business letters, he found that they, too, were better than just simply _acceptable_ or _passable_. It would appear that Lady Kirkland had a mind for business on her shoulders and he found himself respecting her without even initially realizing it.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>"Good morning, my Lord," Madeleine said as she came into the office three weeks after the injury to find Eliza already there with the master's breakfast tray. "Hello Eliza." The past twenty-one days, nearly a month, had passed by in the same routine. Madeleine working in silence, steadily going through the day's work while the Lord would lay on his couch, dictating letters or advising on how to carefully word a reply to a trading agreement so that the East India promised nothing while seemingly promising everything.<p>

What odd relationship formed could only be described as a business partnership. It was an undeniable fact that the Lord respected his wife in that she was savvy and a quick thinker, often times coming up with the obvious solution to a problem that he was simply over-thinking.

"Good morning, my Lady," replied the brunette with a smile, before indicating a mound of papers, "The reports are on desk."

"Thank you," the Lady replied before she said, "Before the Lord has his breakfast, could I look at his injuries first?" The housekeeper silently nodded and stepped aside so as to allow space for Madeleine to kneel on the rug beside her husband. She had been replacing the bandaging on the wound every few days just to keep it clean, and today she unwrapped it to find the only hint of the wound ever being on the leg was Felicia's tiny stitches. Setting aside the bandages, she moved to the wrists and she carefully removed the setting on the left.

"Try flexing your fingers," she said after the hand was free of the casting. The wrist's swelling had almost completely gone down and the black and blue bruising had faded from the skin. It took like it had healed. The Lord did as he was told and moved his fingers and wrist only to report no pain.

Moving to the other wrist, Madeleine found that it, too, was free of bruises, the swelling having subsided. With a smile, she said once more, "Can you move your fingers?" The Lord did as he was told and he found that they moved painlessly as well. Finally, she glanced at his forehead, only to see that any trace of the bump or its redness were completely gone. "You seem to have made a complete recovery, my Lord."

"Stand aside, I'm getting off this blasted couch," was his immediate response. Madeleine and Eliza did as they were told, and slowly, the Lord hauled himself up into a sitting position and then, one at a time, he swung his left foot and then his right foot over the edge of the coach, his socked feet making a dull 'thunk' as they hit the carpeted floor.

Boosting himself up, he stood at his full height for the first time in twenty-one days. A smile of satisfaction briefly flashed across his face, making both the anxious women watching grin as well, and then he seemed to notice they were looking at him and his face fell back into expressionless, as it normally was. "Eliza, go tell Ludwig to prepare steak for dinner and have Roderich draw a hot bath for me; tell Felicia to prepare my best suit and fetch Feliks to my study at once and then clean up this mess." He indicated the bandages and what used to be the casts for his wrists.

"Yes, sir," Eliza said, the smile still on her face. She bowed herself out of the room after retrieving the 'mess' the Lord had indicated. Without much further ado, the Lord strode over to his desk, paused for a moment to look at it properly before rounding it and sitting in the chair.

There was a pause as the Lord picked up his pen and took up a sheet of paper from the pile of reports and letters that had arrived that morning. Then his pen took up its scratching, his handwriting still spidery and jagged as if both his wrists had never been broken. It was like he was never injured at all. He was sitting behind his desk with his blond head bent over his work, intently. Nothing had changed.

Madeleine just stood there and blinked at him. Not helping to feel a little bit of pride in knowing that it was her doing that he was up on his feet once more, that stupid smile still on her face because of it. But, also remorseful that he hadn't even thanked her once for all the time and effort she put in to healing him. But, then again, this _was_ the Lord Kirkland.

Another beat of silence and finally, the Lord spoke in his intimidating, emotionless voice, "Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take a seat and run the accounting books?"

"Oh, y-yes, my Lord," she replied, startled at so suddenly being addressed and scrambling to pull one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs next to her husband's desk and start on the pile as well.

Then there was a knock on the door and the Lord called, "Enter." Feliks peered in, blinking once in complete shock that Madeleine was sitting opposite the Lord but seemed to think better about saying about it.

"You called for me, my Lord?" Feliks asked as he stepped into the office and finally took his eyes off Madeleine and the surprise she brought him.

"Yes. I need you prepare the carriage for me," the Lord said, not looking up from the short reply he was scrawling across the bottom of an accounting memo from the Company. "I need to make an appearance in London so as to calm the panic that, I have no doubt, everyone in the Company is having."

"Of course, sir, right away sir," nodded Feliks before he bowed himself from the room.

"Ah!" hissed the Lord a second after the door closed on Feliks. Madeleine glanced, startled, up to see her husband rubbing his wrist.

"My Lord, does your wrist hurt?" Madeleine asked as she rose from her seat to lean across the desk and gently take his hands in her own.

"It stung, yes, but now it is subsiding," he replied, fixing a scowl at his hands.

Lightly, she released her hold on his hands and said, "My Lord, if I can make a suggestion; it might be wise not to try to write quite yet. You can dictate all your letters to me, if you wish."

"Then finish that note for me," the Lord replied, and she obediently picked up the pen and scrawled out the last of the message as soon as he spoke what he wanted. Another half an hour ticked in such a fashion, with both steadily working, the Lord interrupting only when he wanted to have a reply written.

Then Roderich appeared, announcing that the Lord's requested bath was ready for him and, he got to his feet, and strode for the door, following the butler. Just as her husband reached the door, Madeleine called, "My Lord? What of the dinner you had Ludwig prepare?"

The Lord halted just within the doorframe and turned slowly to look back at the questioning face of his wife. There was a pause before he said, "Yes, tell the staff to enjoy it. It is a way of showing my thanks to them." With that, he vanished from the doorframe.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>While the Lord was away, Madeleine found herself in his office still, working on the daily mound of letters, reports, and accounting memos. She didn't know if it was because it occupied her mind sufficiently or if it were some yet unknown reason, but she would enter into the once fear-inducing room at ten o'clock, after visiting Ludwig and Felicia, and set to work.<p>

Often times, Lily would come in around noon, bringing in tea—apparently Eliza and Roderich had been set on a list of chores that the Lord found had been neglected during his recovery. The smiley little girl would often perch herself on one of the uncomfortable chairs, swinging her legs, and listening intently as Madeleine would take a break from her work so as to tell a fairytale or a story of her misadventures with her older brother.

Unlike the previous times, the Lord wasn't absent for just three or four days, this time, it was nearly two weeks. Madeleine had more than enough time to go into the attic and read almost one lifetime's worth of journals as well as keep up with the business of the manor—it seemed the Lord was taking care of the Company's himself. It was on the fifteenth day of his absence that found the Lady in the office, just finishing reading a rather long, and very dull report, about the plans for a mill being built on the river that ran through some part of the Kirkland lands—they were extensive and she had no clue where this mill was supposed to be—when there was a knock on the door.

It being around noontime, she called, "Come in," thinking that it was Lily arriving with tea. Instead, Eliza peered in with a letter in hand.

"Afternoon, my Lady. This just arrived in the post for you," the housekeeper said as she bustled in and handed the envelope to Madeleine. Glancing at the handwriting, she recognized it as her brother's, and couldn't help smiling.

"Thank you, Eliza," she said as she eagerly tore open the envelope and drew out the letter, the housekeeper just nodding as she went about tidying the office. Carefully unfolding the parchment, Madeleine read:

_Dear Maddie,_

_ I don't know what you did or said to convince him, but I have to thank you ten million times and then infinity times more for it! Just this morning (it'll be yesterday by the time you read this) when Papa and the Duke of Northumberland where formally meeting to discuss signing an official marriage agreement, your husband enters into the parlor in perfect timing. (Not even exaggerating, the guy swept in right when they were about to sign their names.)_

_ He was very smooth about it, just acting like he got his dates mixed up on when a meeting was supposed to be for with Papa, and then, being the man of influence that he is, Papa asked his opinion on the match. He had this look on his face—that was when I finally figured out he planned the whole thing—like Papa just suggested he dress up in a feather suit and dance around like a chicken or something. (Basically, he looked at Papa like he was crazy and that this was a horrible idea.) After that, both Papa and the Duke seemed to realize how _positively foolish_ they were for thinking this was a remotely good idea and instead they decided to just strengthen trading through a partnership agreement._

So, in short, I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED TO MILLIE! Words cannot begin to describe how incredibly happy I am. I kind of feel bad, because Millie will be crushed, but that's not my problem because I'm not marrying her!

_ Whatever you did to convince him to help, I thank you very, very much for it. When he walked in and did that, I could have kissed him! But, I'll leave the kissing to you. _

_ Also, Mother sends her love and wants to know if those dresses are tight—if just a tiny bit—around the stomach. I still don't quite know what she means but Papa chuckles every time she mentions that, which concerns me. Are you trying to gain weight or something?_

_Confused but very, very happy, _

_Your loving older brother,_

_Alfred_

Madeleine couldn't help but laugh and said, "I can't believe it!"

"What? What is it?" Eliza asked, looking up from rearranging books on their shelves and hurried to stand over the Lady's shoulder. Madeleine secretly knew that the housekeeper had just been hanging around to hear about what news the letter contained, but didn't comment upon it.

"The Lord! For some reason he helped stop Alfred's marriage," Madeleine replied. The housekeeper's jaw went slack. She didn't need any explanation, as the Lady had told her the whole story, even the rather pitiful attempt to enlist the Lord's aid. Seeing the look of disbelief of Eliza's face, the blond nodded and added, "Right when they were about to sign the official marriage agreement, Lord Kirkland walks in and completely convinces them to call off the whole thing with just one look."

Eliza just laughed in delight once she heard this, saying, "This is wonderful news. Young Master Alfred was such a nice young man and now he won't have to live the rest of his life with a little nasty girl for a wife! And it's all thanks to the Lord!" The housekeeper paused, her eyebrows furrowed before she said, "But, why is that? Why would the master help?"

"That's exactly what I was wondering! He never goes out of his way to help others and especially when there is a chance for earning money involved," Madeleine said, frowning at this thought. The question had immediately sprung into her mind once she read the news and there just wasn't a logical answer.

"You know what I think," Eliza said, looking slyly down at the blond woman, "I think he did that in way of thanking you. He must of known that Alfred would immediately write to you about this. He's thanking you for taking care of him."

"That can't be it," Madeleine disregarded, shaking her head, which caused her blond curls to bounce around her face, "He doesn't even acknowledge me unless he's dictating a letter to me."

Eliza didn't reply, only giving the other woman a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile, which Madeleine couldn't help send a skeptical look at. Whatever Eliza was thinking, the Lady knew it couldn't _possibly_ true, could it?

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene VII<strong>

* * *

><p>The morning after the Lord's return home, Madeleine was crossing the entrance hall, just passing the grandfather cloak that didn't tick, going to the library—she had long since stopped going through the passageway, as she only used it for her excursions to the attic, which had to come to a stop now that her husband had returned—when she was stopped by a echoing, "Ah! There you are, my Lady!" followed by hurried footsteps.<p>

Turning, the young woman saw Roderich hurrying towards her. "Good morning, Roderich," she greeted, smiling.

"And to you, my Lady," the butler replied, remembering his manners despite being in such a rush, "The Lord has summoned you to his office immediately. It would be best to hurry."

Madeleine gave the butler a worried look as she nodded and said a quick, "Thank you," before going the way the butler had come. When she reached the office's doors, she knocked and heard the traditional, "Enter" from within.

When she stepped inside, closing the door behind her, she found her husband at his usual spot behind the desk, although this time, his head wasn't bent over his work and instead, his fingers were forming a steeple in front of him, as though he had been expecting her. "Good morning, Madeleine, I hope you realize you are late. We start work at seven thirty sharp and we take breakfast as we work."

The woman opened her mouth to reply to this, but then the realization that he addressed as '_Madeleine_' not _'My Lady_' or _'My Dear' _hit her. This stunned her completely speechless. He never, not even at the wedding ceremony, called her Madeleine. She had quite seriously thought he didn't know his own wife's first name. Although he said her name followed by a rather snippy comment on her tardiness, _he still said it!_ This, Madeleine realized, should not excite her nearly as much as it did.

"Sit and write this letter for me," he commanded, indicating the same chair she sat in the day he was pronounced recovered and she wrote his dictated letters for him. She did as she was told and readied a blank sheet of parchment and dipped her pen in the ink fountain. As she neatly copied the Lord's words onto the page, she couldn't help think.

This was the man that had put up the rouse of being a charming, kind gentleman before their marriage just to preserve the engagement and wed her for the money it would make him. This was the man that was away in meetings and discussing trade more often than he was home. This was the man that hated music and parties. This was the man that hid a corpse-like portrait in the attic and a hundred or more leather bound journals written about long dead ancestors that had supposedly been given eternal youth.

But, this was _also_ the man that had saved her brother from marrying a woman who forced herself upon him, obligating him into a marriage that would make him miserable for the rest of his life. She blinked at that realization as she handed back the letter to be signed by her husband—about as much writing as he was able to do.

Deciding it was worth a try, she asked, "My Lord?"

"Yes, my Lady?" he replied, distractedly. He was back to referring to her in his usual, formal way but that didn't change the fact that he _did_ refer to her by her first name. She didn't expect more than that from him. Propriety.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for my brother," she said, watching carefully for his reaction.

There was none, he just picked up yet another parchment on the stack of work, not even pausing or looking up at for the barest of moments. All he said was, "I haven't the faintest on what you are talking about, my Lady. Write a reply to this." He handed the paper to her. Madeleine grinned despite herself. He didn't confirm or deny it, and she got the feeling that, with the Lord, that was as much of a confirmation as she was going to get.

The day trickled on in that fashion, the Lord handing her sheets of paper for her to compose a reply on her own or to write down his dictated message. It wasn't until late in the afternoon that they exchanged words that didn't involve the amount of shipments, sums and figures from said shipments, or trading agreements.

"That appears to be the last of it for the day," Madeleine observed as she placed the parchment she had been working on for the past twenty minutes or so, as it involved transferring the sums very carefully and exactly in to the Company accounting book, with the other completed forms.

"Yes," the Lord replied, nodding stiffly, before adding, just as awkwardly, "My Lady, if you wouldn't mind coming in every morning at seven thirty?"

Ignoring the fact that he had commanded her to do as much that morning, she smiled and replied, "Of course, my Lord." She supposed it was the thought that counted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I totally beat up Arthur...it wasn't actually a fall from a horse, it was me. (Not really, of course, but I _did_ add on a second broken wrist and a bonked head just to get back at him for Maddie's sake.) Also, I wanted to say that Millie is a complete OC just because I didn't think any of the Hetalia characters fit the purpose of her role (except for Francis/Francine, but he already has a role as Maddie and Al's dad). Congratulations to Freedom Kiwi for winning the contest and being the first to guess correctly! And a big thanks for this chapter to my sister, hillyhp2590, for all her medical knowledge. (If you like Percy Jackson and the Olympians go check out her story Ghost King, or for Pirate!England, I highly recommend Gentlemen of Fortune!) I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! Leave me a review and _maybe_ I won't beat up Arthur some more!


	4. Act IV

**Act IV, Scene I**

* * *

><p>July finally slipped by, taking August with it, and before anyone in the Kirkland manor realized, it was already September and the green forest around the estate had seemed to burst into bright oranges and reds. In that time, the Lord and Lady settled into a routine. They would meet at seven-thirty sharp to begin on the day's work together, taking their breakfast as they worked and barely exchanging any sort of talk that wasn't business related. In the beginning, he called her by her first name at least once a week, if even that, and as the days progressed, forming weeks and then months, it became at least every other day.<p>

When the Lord left, and he still made regular trips into London—though not quite as often and for not as long amounts of time—Madeleine kept with this schedule. Although, she did alter it so as to be able to slip away to the attic on occasion.

During the course of the past three months, she had read most of, what should have been, a second lifetime of journals—making them belong to another man. But, as she read, she soon realized that the events within were talking of the same man. She then randomly pulled a journal from the middle of the timeline of journals, as she thought of them as, and discovered that these, too, were written about the same man. It would seem her crazy, impossible idea that she fleetingly considered the night her husband was injured when Felicia accidentally gave her information was the only logical one, as illogical as it seemed.

She didn't want to prod the topic with the servants, not only because she knew they'd clam up, but she knew how absurd she would sound if she told them her theory. It would be a relief to hear someone laugh at the idea, tell her it was crazy, but it would also lead to questions on how she knew about the journals in the attic—the only off-limits place in the house now that she frequented the office—and she didn't want to betray their trust.

It was later on in September when Madeleine was sitting across from the Lord in the office, finishing up the last bits of work, when he put down his quill and said, "My Lady, I was wondering, that is, if you're not busy, if you would want to take dinner with me."

There was a pause, Madeleine blinked at him for a moment before she found herself nodding and smiling. "Yes, it would be an honor."

"Good, I'll join you in the dining room at seven, then," he said, a smile only slightly curling his lips. With that he took his swift exit of the office, leaving a stunned Madeleine in his wake.

She must have been sitting in that same position for quite some time, because when Eliza entered the room, she said, "Good heavens, my Lady! How long have you been sitting there like that?"

"I—I don't know," she replied, finding, to her great surprise, that her voice was still somehow in working order.

"My Lady," Eliza said, blinking at the state the other woman was in, "Did something happen?"

"My Lord…my Lord asked me to dinner," she replied, shifting her gaze from staring at the empty space behind the desk where her husband usually sat to meet the housekeeper's stunned green eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>At five till seven o'clock, Eliza hustled Madeleine from her bedchamber where she had been having her hair pulled and twisted all while trying to breath in the corset Eliza had yanked the strings uncomfortably tight on. "Eliza," she whispered to the housekeeper as they descended to the entrance hall and the brunette closely tailed her mistress as she stuck last-minute hairpins into Madeleine's curls, just to be safe. "You're stepping on the ends of my dress."<p>

"Oh dear, sorry my Lady," Eliza replied, swooshing her own green skirt out of the way so as to peer down at where her black slipper feet were. As soon as Felicia had heard the news, she rushed to Madeleine's room with a garment bag and her sewing basket for quick adjustments in hand. Apparently, the seamstress had a small collection of dresses that were the Lady's size that she had been making in the secret hope that the manor would be hosting many balls and parties for the gowns to be worn to. This had, to her great disappointment, yet to happen but it was quite fortunate now that she had hoped as much.

"That's quite all—" began Madeleine before she cut herself off, stopping as she did to turn on the step and stood to face Eliza. Biting her lip in concern, she asked abruptly, "What are we going to talk about? What do I say? What if I mess up or say the wrong thing? I—I can't do this! I can't—"

"Now stop," Eliza said, putting her hands on her hips and fixing the younger woman with a stern frown. Eliza knew these thoughts had been going through her mistress's head the whole afternoon; she was frankly surprised Madeleine hadn't vocalized them sooner. "You can't think like that. You'll do just fine. You're a charming young woman and the Lord at least has _noticed_ that—maybe subconsciously—or he wouldn't have asked you to dine with him."

"But when I'm around him, I just clam up and become a blank, boring—" Madeleine began to protest but she was cut off once more.

"Just think of how you will let down Felicia if you don't show off your dress," Eliza interjected. Madeleine furrowed her eyebrows as she remembered the beaming smile Felicia had fixed her with when she had first tried on the dress and how that face would turn into a one of total crushed disappointment if she found out her dress wasn't worn for more than five whole minutes.

Nibbling on her lip at that thought, Madeleine couldn't help but acknowledge that Eliza was right. She couldn't stand the mental image of Felicia's saddened face, let alone Eliza's, as they had spent most of the later afternoon in preparation, primping and preening Madeleine. For all of that work to come to nothing due to backing out last second because of a bad case of nerves would be a folly.

Not to mention the wrath Madeleine would invoke within her husband seemed hardly worth it; what temper she had seen in him was frightening to say the least that she didn't want to imagine the outcome of her not coming to dine with him after he invited her.

She didn't like it when Eliza was right; it always entailed her being forced into doing something unpleasant. Like wearing corsets.

"Alright," she finally consented after a moment of thought. "Lead the way." Eliza grinned in triumph as the two descended the remaining stairs to the main entryway. The housekeeper had known that the Lady would have second thoughts on the matter and she had been ready with the perfect motivation.

When they had reached the bottom of the staircase, Madeleine turned to the housekeeper one last time and Eliza said, with an encouraging smile, "Don't worry, dear, I'll be with you for it all." Madeleine opened her mouth to ask what she meant by that but was interrupted by Roderich appearing from the doors that lead into the dining room, looking the part of a finely trained butler in his black velvet suit and coat tails.

"Dinner is served," he announced, bowing to the Lady as his wife nudged Madeleine along. Glancing once back at the brunette, Madeleine stepped into the dining room only to find it was alight with candles and the table was set with golden and silver platters all laden with a rich variety of food. Ludwig had really out done himself.

And standing amongst it all, in a dashing black coat, tan waistcoat, and breeches that were the finest of fashion, was the Lord.

When he caught sight of her, his emerald eyes widened in what must have been surprise and Madeleine could feel her cheeks flame with embarrassment. "My Lady, your seat is this way," Roderich said as he shut the door behind her, leading her to one end of the extensive table. There was a pause as her chair was pulled out for her and, gathering her skirts, she gracefully slid in. The whole time, the Lord Kirkland found his eyes unable to be moved to anything else in the room.

When both Lord and Lady had been seated, Roderich clapped his hands and Eliza hurried in, serving both her master and mistress a little of all the delicacies of the massive assortment of food, Madeleine soon finding her plate with a small mountain of heavenly smelling entrées on it. Carefully choosing the correct fork out of the four to the left of her plate, she silently thanked her mother for the many tedious hours of etiquette lessons that once seemed so useless, and stared at a loss at her food, wondering where to begin on the meal.

"Start with the pheasant," was the suggestion from the other end of table. Madeleine glanced up to see the Lord smiling slightly at her, seeming to have taken pity upon her and helped her in her plight. Nodding, she took his suggestion and was glad she did so.

Studying the Lord as he worked through his own meal, a thought occurred to her. Eliza had said that he must have, at least subconsciously, realized that she was at least _somewhat_ interesting to talk with. In a rare moment of Alfred-like thinking, she decided that, if her husband wanted to know her better than he should know the real her. Which, of course, entailed not being afraid to speak her mind or ask questions, and there was one in particular that was occupying her thoughts at that moment.

Taking a gulp of water, so as to prepare to speak, she asked, a slight smile on her own face, "My Lord, I've been meaning to ask why you avoid the London season like the plague." It had been a question first proposed by her mother in a letter, but Madeleine had disregarded it as her mother was fretting over London society more than she ever cared for.

But, with this feast laid before them, Madeleine couldn't help but be reminded of the grand balls the Lord used to hold at his townhouse and the other ones he had been in attendance of during their engagement. Of course, she knew the answer was that he thought the season was a colossal waste of money—he was, after all, a business man before he was an aristocrat—but she felt just the right amount of peevish to ask him.

"I have never liked all the jeweled ladies fluttering their eyelashes up at me or the risk that comes with dancing," he replied, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, like it was a natural reaction to an event that most people of their rank longed for the whole year.

Madeleine smiled at that, having to restrain a laugh. She quite vividly remembered the one time Millie of Northumberland managed to snare the Lord into a dance. Deciding not to take pity on him, as he no doubt was rather fair in his assessment, but instead persist in her questioning, she asked, "What risks are involved with dancing?"

"There's always a possibility of being stuck with a disagreeable partner," the Lord replied and Madeleine could clearly see he was thinking of Millie.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right partner yet?" she asked, with a smile. He blinked at her for a moment before he turned back to his dinner, not seeming to deem that question worth a response or simply not knowing how to respond. It was most likely the latter of the two.

After dessert was served, the doors opened and Ludwig, a violin tucked under one ear, followed closely by Felicia entered, both adorned in fine clothes. Felicia's rich voice, singing an Italian love song, carried about the room, seeming to fill it with warmth. Madeleine grinned at the sound, rising from her chair and hurrying about to the Lord beckoning him from his chair. Taking her arm, he led her from the dining hall and into a cavernous room filled with floor to ceiling mirrors and golden moldings, a crystal chandelier hanging from the painted ceilings.

The Lord led his wife to the center of the ballroom, turning to face her a moment after they came to a halt. He once again was stricken with how beautifully her golden curls fell about her face and the way that the pink silk dress brought out the pink of her cheeks and red of her mouth that was otherwise surrounded by pale. The mere sight of her made a strange sensation churn in his stomach, his chest to twinge, and his mouth to become curiously dry.

Then, as if planned, the ivory keys of the grand piano that had long sat unused in the ballroom had a traditional English waltz coaxed out of them by Roderich's skilled fingers, accompanied by Ludwig's violin and Felicia's warm voice. The music surrounded the couple, pulling their feet unconsciously along with it, sending them into the steps of the waltz. The Lord's right hand instinctively found its way to Madeleine's waist while the other clasped her own right hand. The Lady placed her remaining hand on his shoulder, their feet moving, all the while, in perfect harmony.

He swirled her about the room, the odd feelings not leaving or fading as he gazed on her smiling face. As he danced, his mind kept revolving around the thoughts of this odd new development he was feeling. He couldn't quite decide what its precise name was or if he entirely liked it or not.

She allowed him to lead her through waltz after minuet after foxtrot, never allowing her eyes to stray to anything else in the grand ballroom—although there was plenty to look at—and let all her focus stay on the music the three servants offered.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>The next morning found the Lord up earlier than usual, even by his standards. He sat in his office on the couch he had spent most of July stretched out on, despite him having vowed never to sit on it ever again. He was staring at the long gone out fireplace just across from him, although not so much comprehending the sight but rather letting his thoughts wander as they pleased.<p>

A frown was fixed on his face, which, in turn, made his eyebrows crinkle together as his thoughts stumbled across the issue he had been trying to avoid. He didn't know what to make of the current situation he found himself in. Rather, he didn't know if he wholly liked it or not. At first, the answer had been a rather decisive 'no' but now that he had thought more on the matter—which was inevitable as it had become the sole thought he seemed capable to focus on—he began to doubt that initial answer and now it was more of a 'probably yes.'

This matter being, as it had become predominately apparent the night before, was the rather curious and altogether strange feelings that he felt whenever he found himself in the presence of his wife. It was a warm feeling in his chest, like curling up in front of the fire with a good book in the winter, but also a dry feeling in his mouth, a nervous one like he was fairly sure his business associates felt whenever they spoke to him. He wasn't at all sure what it meant, if these sort of emotion were natural, and if he liked them or not.

Glancing up at the clock situated above the fireplace, he saw that it was seven in the morning already, his musings having spent an hour and half by themselves. She would be coming down in a half an hour for the day's business. Frowning at the thought, his gaze unconsciously drifted to the armchair she had sat in two months ago when he was invalid. He remembered he would pretend to be asleep when she sat there, just to observe her as she read reports, delicately nibbling the quill she held in her long, limber fingers.

Finding himself thinking such thoughts, he shook himself literally in an effort to stop that line of thought. Hoisting himself to his feet, he strode over to the servant bell and rang it, calling for Feliks to ready the carriage. He needed to leave the manor. He needed time to think and be away from her; she seemed to be clouding his judgment.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene IV<strong>

* * *

><p><em>My Lady,<em>

_ I have been called away of business once more. I will return by Friday morning, at the latest._

_Lord Kirkland_

Frowning at the message, Madeleine set it aside to look up at Eliza and Felicia, both of whom sat across from her in Felicia's workshop where the three woman were gathered to have afternoon tea. "I just don't understand it," she said after a pause of thought, "This is the third time he's left on business this month. Barely staying home at all in between his trips. I thought we were getting along so well that night at dinner! Do you think I did something wrong?" She frowned at that thought, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Ve, I don't know," Felicia replied, sounding truly perplexed. "Maybe he just has a lot of business to attend to?"

Eliza shook her head in response to this, making her brown curls bob about her head as she set down her teacup. "That can't be it. It's odd even for him to be gone this much. But, I doubt that it was anything you did, my Lady. He couldn't keep his eyes off you while you were dancing."

"But that makes even less sense!" protested Madeleine, looking quite at a loss.

"Sometimes men don't make sense," Felicia nodded, knowingly.

That made Madeleine giggle and Eliza to smile broadly. "Perhaps," the housekeeper said, after a moment as she thought, "that really is what the matter is. Felicia, you know the Lord is quite horrid at expressing his feelings and surely, my Lady, you've noticed that too. Maybe he is simply trying to decide upon his feelings towards his, uh, feelings and then how he wants to act on them."

"Oh, that's ridiculous, Eliza," Madeleine replied, rolling her eyes at the housekeeper in disbelief.

"Ve, I don't know, my Lady," Felicia said, sounding like she was actually considering this proposition seriously, "Eliza does have a point." Shaking her head at the two, Madeleine returned her attention to her cup of tea, disregarding their theory for nothing less than wishful thinking—if she could even call it that.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>Friday morning, when Eliza entered Madeleine's bedchamber, she found the Lady was still asleep, an uncommon sight as it was already well past eight and she was usually up at a prompt six so as to prepare for her day's work. "My Lady?" Eliza said, setting aside the laundry hamper she had tucked under her arm for the time being, hurrying over to her mistress' sleeping form and gently shaking her shoulder. "My Lady, it's time to wake up; it's already nine o'clock! The master returned last night and he will <em>not<em> be happy that you are late."

That seemed to do the trick as she bolted straight up in bed, almost knocking her forehead against Eliza's in her haste. "What?" she nearly shouted, as she made a mad grab to pull her sheets off of her, which was a harder process than it appeared.

Then, a knock on the door froze Madeleine in her mad scramble. Both housekeeper and mistress glanced at each other before Eliza hurried about the bed and opened the door to find her husband standing there, a silver breakfast tray in both hands. "Hello dear, the master sent this up along with a letter for the Lady Kirkland," the butler said as he handed the tray to Eliza's awaiting hands.

"Thank you dear," the housekeeper replied as her husband briefly kissed her on the cheek before he turned and hurried back to his duties as the butler. Nudging the door closed with her foot, Eliza cared the tray back around the bed and set it in Madeleine's lap, who was now sitting cross-legged, thoroughly awake after her minor heart attack.

Blinking down at the tray, Madeleine gulped once and glanced up at Eliza, who was collecting clothes into her hamper. "Eliza," she began, "You don't think my Lord is angry with me for being late?"

"I seriously doubt that dear," the housekeeper replied, "But you better read that letter before coming to any conclusions." Glancing down at where the brunette pointed, Madeleine noticed for the first time the letter that was pinned to the tray underneath the tea saucer. Carefully wiggling it free without spilling a drop of steaming tea, she unfolded the letter and read:

_Madeleine,_

_ It would be an honor for you to meet me in the entrance hall at five o'clock. I trust Felicia will be about at your room around ten or ten thirty to help you prepare. And until I see you then, I hope you have a pleasant morning and enjoyed the opportunity to sleep in late. _

_Lord Kirkland_

There was just her name at the top and just his title at the end. No 'dear' or 'sincerely,' but, there was _her _name. In all of his notes, even since that fateful day when he referred to her by her first name for the very first time, he had never written it. She blinked at it, memorizing the way the words neatly curved into one another, how the peak of the loop of the 'l' was pointed and the 'i' dotted with a dash instead of an actual dot. For a moment, nothing more, her fleeting thought was that it was the most beautifully written her name had ever been and then she shook herself out of such thoughts, scolding herself for being silly. Then, beyond her own name being at the top, there was the message itself.

"Well?" prompted Eliza, "What does it say?"

Before she could reply, the door, instead of being politely knocked upon, burst open and Felicia came bouncing in, a smile stretching from ear to ear, lighting her face. "Good morning, my Lady!" she sang. The auburn haired seamstress looked like she had been awake the whole night, with dark circles under her eyes and her curls in a wayward mess, but she looked happier than she had in the time that Madeleine had known her—which was quite an accomplishment as Felicia was constantly happy.

"Good morning," replied Madeleine, returning the smile just as Eliza asked, "What's that you have there, Felicia?"

In Felicia's hands, cradled carefully, was a black garment bag that she flung the wardrobe doors open to dramatically hang upon the hook just inside the door, making sure both the other women were watching her as she did. "I have," she declared, fully turning back to Madeleine and Eliza, "A special surprise for you, my Lady. A gift from the master, himself."

Slowly, as to increase the anticipation, Felicia unbuttoned the black garment bag and both the housekeeper and Lady gasped at the dress that was reveled within.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>"Oh dear," Madeleine whispered as she breathed out a sigh, trying to calm her jumbled nerves. Eliza, noticing this, gave her a smile and a wink. The two were walking from Madeleine's chamber to the staircase so as to meet the Lord, and the Lady's stomach had a queasy, sickening feeling in it. She quite seriously thought she might faint. "Eliza," she said, "Why am I so nervous? It's worse than when I dined with him!"<p>

"Maybe something's happened since then?" the housekeeper suggested, which only caused the Lady to become confused as well as nauseous. Before Madeleine could demand what the brunette meant by this, she said, "This is where you must go alone. Best of luck, dear, and have a good time."

Indeed, they had reached the staircase landing. The red-carpeted staircase seemed to stretch out right from under her feet, winding downwards into a dark abyss. Madeleine took a deep breath. She needed to rein in her imagination. Turning to Eliza, she gave her a brave smile and said, "Thank you Eliza, for helping me get ready and everything else."

The housekeeper nodded before saying, with a good-natured grin, "Just get going all ready!" Sparing a moment to steel her nerves, Madeleine delicately lifted the hem of her gown ever so slightly so as to descend the stairs without ripping it or tumbling forward. She was walking in heeled slippers; the hem of the dress was one thing she shouldn't have to worry about when descending the stairs.

If she wasn't so intent on not taking a tumble, Madeleine might have seen her husband glance up at her only to hurriedly turn his vision back on her, obviously stunned by her appearance. And for good reason too. With the combined efforts of Felicia and Eliza, Madeleine's hair was fashionably pinned back behind a pearl band that separated smooth, sleek hair and a pile of golden curls that crowned the back of her head. Her delicate features seemed almost doll-like, as her cheeks were rosy, her eyes given the illusion to be round, and her lips painted pink.

But, she was intent on not tripping, so she didn't see her husband until she reached the safety of the floor of the entrance hall, and she finally raised her eyes to meet his.

"Good evening, my dear," he greeted, his voice having a strange awkward, almost shy quality to it as he bowed over her white gloved hand and kissing it as she reached him. "You look lovely this evening." For some reason, the Lord seemed different tonight, like he was a completely different person. He wasn't the cold, standoffish man or the charming gentleman, but rather a sincere husband that was speaking honestly.

"Thank you, my Lord," she replied, a shy smile across her face. She, despite her husband's compliment, felt ridiculous. Felicia had sewn a deep, scarlet velvet gown that rested just off the shoulders and scooped down daringly low. The bodice was tight before it belled out into a sweeping skirt. Madeleine didn't know how the seamstress had managed it, but she had somehow sewed the masterpiece in one night.

"Ah, but there is a problem," he said, taking a step back as if to critically observe her, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment in thought before observing, only just now placing his finger on it. "Your neck seems a little bare." It was true. None of her necklaces seemed quite enough to be worn with the marvelous gown.

"Yes, I didn't have—" Madeleine began, trying to explain this, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment that the Lord would notice.

"Not to worry, I just happened to have this in my pocket," he cut her off, giving her a shy smile, before reaching into the pocket of his suit and drawing out glittering sapphires set into an elaborate silver chain. "I meant to wait but—" he began but was cut off by Madeleine's gasp at the sight; it seemed a woman's basic reaction to any gems being presented to her. Now she knew how her mother felt when her father gave her the real diamond necklace the previous Christmas. Taking a gulp, that went unnoticed by Madeleine, he tentatively asked," May I?"

Not sure if words would come out of her throat at the moment, Madeleine nodded and she turned so as for it to be easier to fasten the clasp. There was a moment as he unclasped the chain and then, slowly, as to avoid her hair, he brought the necklace around so that the cool metal and jewels rested against her collarbone. Bringing his hands around, letting the tips of his finger brush ever so slightly against her skin, he easily clasped the necklace about her, briefly resting his fingers on the exposed back her neck before removing them just as quickly.

Despite the action being so momentary, it sent shivers down her spin. Since when could his merest touch do such a thing?

Turning back to face him, Madeleine found the Lord smiling at her now with an approving look in his green eyes. "Yes," he nodded after a moment of thought, "That suits you quite well."

Just then, Roderich entered through the front door, wrapped in a heavy black coat and said, "My Lord, the carriage is ready."

"Wonderful, thank you Roderich," the Lord replied, turning briefly away from his wife before returning his attention to her and offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Accepting his arm, she wordlessly smiled back. She meet his green eyes with her indigo ones, peering deep into his and looking for a hidden intent in them. The Lord, doing all these almost romantic gestures towards her just didn't seem to fit his personality one bit. If she was being honest with herself, she did find dinner together followed by hours of dancing quite romantic—even him inviting her to a night out and the necklace—but it was just so unlike him. She had only known him to act like a charming gentleman when he had something to gain but what was there now? Children? That was hardly likely; there were other means to go about such business.

It just didn't make sense. It was as though, once she thought she knew him, he changed just to confuse her. Maybe Eliza and Felicia were right? Or maybe it was something else entirely?

These thoughts kept circulating around her mind as he offered her a black coat to slip into, before both of them plunged into the darkness of the night and he handed her into the carriage, soon joining her. She thought of this as he offered the one blanket in the frigid coach and respectfully sat on the other side.

"My dear," he began, after Madeline was settled into her seat, "I suppose now would be the right time to tell you what I have planned for our evening."

"Yes, I have been eagerly awaiting the whole day," Madeleine replied, quite truthfully. She wouldn't deny that the question had plagued her imagination, bringing about all kinds of scenarios, the most mundane being dinner and the most elaborate was that she was going to be kidnapped by pirates along with the Lord and they would have to do something daring and clever to escape.

Felicia and Eliza were no help in the matter, as they were positively gloating about how they were—most likely—right about their theory over the Lord's absence, Madeleine would be forced to admit that they were, in fact, right. Or, at least, it appeared so thus far. Nevertheless, the two other women kept suggesting romantic scenarios that only fueled the Lady's own imagination, despite her laughing them off when they were suggested.

Letting a grin flit onto his face, he replied, "I have managed to reserve two tickets to the box seat at the opera house in town. The Magic Flute is playing and the tickets were sold out in moments. Luckily though, I managed to acquire two of the best seats."

Madeleine didn't exactly know how to respond to this. For some odd reason, this was far more romantic or extraordinary than any of the scenarios that the three women could think of. It was such a small, simple gesture, him taking her to the opera, but somehow this was, for some reason, the most romantic thing the Lord could have done. Madeleine was very grateful, at that moment, that the carriage was cloaked in shadows as he would have seen that her face was flaming red. This was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for her and her heart was sent fluttering for it.

When the carriage finally halted before the manor that evening, the Lord clamored down from the carriage first, handing Madeleine down before waving Feliks off to take care of the horses. After the horses were clicked off, he led her up to the door, allowing her to enter into the shadowy entrance hall before him before closing and locking the door behind them. Taking her arm once more, they glided into the entryway, only stopping their progression when they reached the center of the hall. The Lord's captivating emerald eyes, as he turned to her, were illuminated in the darkness, along with the rest of his face, by the moonlight that filtered in through the windows high above.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he said, his voice shy as his hands clasped about hers. Was this the same man that was so falsely charming? Was this the same man that was so indifferent before? He was awkward in his comments to her, shy even, but he was honest; he was completely different

A smile lit her face. "Thank you for thinking of taking me. I positively adored it."

"I was hoping you would and worried you wouldn't, but it was worth the risk to see you looking somehow more radiant than usual," he replied, tentatively. Madeleine's heart seemed to thump quite loudly before fluttering and turning a few cartwheels.

Taking a gulp, and trying to focus on keeping her voice even, she asked, "Would you like the necklace back in the morning?"

"No, it is a gift to you," he replied hurriedly, removing one hand from holding hers to lightly thumb her jaw line, causing yet move shivers to course through her body.

"My Lord, I can't—" Madeleine began, so flustered that she had forgotten the fact that she was his wife and thus there was no reason why it would be wrong for him to gift the beautiful gems to her.

"Arthur," he interrupted.

She paused, blinking her eyes at him in slight shock. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Arthur," he clarified. There was a moment of complete silence as he looked at her with that same awkward, shy look that he wore before he seemed to gather his nerves about him to lean in and ask, his mouth mere centimeters from her ears and breathing warmth onto her cheeks, "My lovely Madeleine, may I kiss you?"

Instead of replying with words, she moved her lips to meet his, softly pressing into the kiss he had asked for. He quickly answered with a stronger, passionate response, his hands sliding down to rest about her waist while her hands made their way to rest on his chest. Warmth surged through her whole body, like she was suddenly being let into the sun after being kept in the shadows and cold for quite a long time.

And then, they separated.

There was a pause as they both just stared into one another's eyes. Green meeting indigo. Before she could think of what she was doing, Madeleine leaned into him and his warmth—his hands now completely wrapped about her—so as to peck his lips, and said, "Arthur." And, as the name left her mouth, she found she quite liked the sound of it. What was more, the simple name of Arthur was worth saying a million times over, so she whispered, savoring the sound of it on her tongue, "Arthur."

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Dear Diary,<em>

_ Is it odd of me to say that I think I may just now be falling in love with my husband after five months of marriage?_

_ It is an odd thought indeed, that I should be married without feeling much of anything towards my husband. But, now it seems even more odd that I am feeling emotions such as these for him. After all, on the surface, he is nothing but a man with the sole intentions of gaining wealth. But, then again, he's something else entirely. It's really rather odd._

_Very happy,_

_Lady Madeleine of Kirkland_

The next morning found Eliza striding into the Lady's bedchamber only to find Madeleine buried under a large mound of blankets. Shaking her head at the sight, the housekeeper set the breakfast tray aside—it was Saturday, after all, and that meant a later start to the workday—and went to draw the heavy scarlet curtains from the windows, letting the blinding winter sunlight filter into the room.

There was a mumble of protest from the blankets at this and Eliza grinned, going over and saying, "Come on, time to get up. Your breakfast is getting cold."

"No, I'm too sleepy," was the grumbled reply.

Arching an eyebrow, Eliza said, "Dear, I'm _not_ leaving you be if you don't get up."

"Five more minutes," Madeleine muttered from underneath the shelter of the blankets.

"Not a chance! I haven't heard a thing about how last night went yet!" the housekeeper said, stoutly. There a pause of silence, Madeleine made no sound of response and then Eliza adopted a rather wicked smile across her face and attacked the pile of blankets, tickling the Lady on the neck relentlessly. This caused Madeleine to flail about in giggles, struggling to shed her blankets off of her all while attempting to ward off the incoming tickles.

"Ahahaha—okay, okay!" she said, around a gasp of laughter, "I'm up! Stop! Ahahahahaha!"

Satisfied that the Lady was up, Eliza ceased, giggling at the sight of a rather annoyed Madeleine scowling up at her, trying her best to repress a smile. "Well," the housekeeper said, trying her best to fix her mistress with a stern look."That was a pleasant way to start the morning, wasn't it?"

"Just for that, I'm not going to tell you about last night," Madeleine replied, teasingly as she swung out of bed to retrieve her breakfast tray before sitting cross-legged on the bed, balancing it on her lap as she did.

"Oh, don't be such a spoil sport," laughed Eliza as she watched Madeleine settle back onto the bed.

Grinning, Madeleine just patted the bedding beside her and said, "Take a seat, already!" Eliza, her smile know twice as wide, settled so she was cross-legged next to Madeleine, just within reach of stealing a slice of toast off her tray. There was a moment of silence as Madeleine cut her fried egg, mopping up some of the yolk with a remaining piece of toast.

Around a buttery bite of toast, Eliza prompted, "Well?"

Glancing at the housekeeper from the corner of her eye, Madeleine replied "Well, what?" The brunette just fixed the blonde with sarcastic look and the Lady continued on, after her usual unladylike snort of laughter. "He took me to the opera last night and we saw the Magic Flute, which was the most spectacular show I have ever seen. The music was enchanting and the story, captivating!"

"Don't tell me that the only remarkable thing was the _production?"_ Eliza questioned, disbelief clear in her voice.

Madeleine didn't respond right away, as she was too intent on consuming a strip of bacon, and after she swallowed, she took a sip of juice so as to give her another moment, if only to build the drama and anticipation. When, she finally set down her glass, she said, "Before we departed, he gave to be a beautiful silver necklace with sapphires set in them that glimmered, putting it around my neck himself. When we returned around midnight, he told me to keep them once I asked when he wanted them back. And after that…" she trailed off into a wistful sigh at the memory. Eliza smiled at the younger woman, remembering when she would sigh at the end her sentence like that; when she fell in love with Roderich.

The housekeeper waited for the other to go on, and she finally did, saying, "After that, he told me his name—Arthur. Arthur. Arthur!" She nearly sang his name for reasons unknown to her but known perfectly well to Eliza. "Arthur! What a glorious name! And _then_ Arthur kissed me. And—oh, Eliza!—what a kiss!" At this point she flopped onto her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in contentment. Fortunately for the sake of her breakfast, Eliza had the foresight to take it off her lap before she did any flopping.

"Sounds like love, dear," Eliza said with a fond smile.

"Love?" Madeleine repeated, almost as if she were testing the word out upon her tongue, as she sat up, to blink quizzically at the housekeeper before she got to the feet and crossed to the window, staring out at it. "I suppose so. It's just—" Here she turned back to the housekeeper, furrowed eyebrows replacing the benevolent smile. "Eliza, I _think_ I might love him, but how can I? He's callous, apathetic, and even despicable all to gain wealth. How can I love a man like that?"

"Maybe callous, apathetic, and despicable only apply to the man that he masked himself with?" suggested Eliza, sincerely.

"Hmm," was Madeleine's response to this as she turned her gaze to rest on the outside world covered in a blanket of puffy white snow. At the sight of all the lovely white powder coating the earth finally registered in her mind, Madeleine turned to the housekeeper in excitement, saying, "Eliza, I have an idea."

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><p><strong>Act IV, Scene VII<strong>

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><p>"Come along, my love," Madeleine said as she led Arthur from the back doors of the estate and out onto the snow laden gardens and field beyond. Her mitten covered hand clasped tightly about his black gloved one, so as to make absolutely sure he was following.<p>

She had been surprised on how little of a protest he had put up against the idea of venturing into the snow with her, only arguing that he had paperwork to attend to once or twice before agreeing to her idea. After finding a fur cloak and mittens, Madeleine had met with her husband, taking up his hand timidly. But now that she held his hand, she somehow found it was remarkably natural feeling. Like his and her hands had been molded to fit into one another's.

Arthur just smiled at his wife as they ventured through the frozen gardens and out into the open field. There, she halted in her march, so as to better observe the field and the bare, snow-lined trees beyond, the grounds glittering with white powder as it caught the sun."Isn't it lovely?" Madeleine breathed as she stared out at the scene.

"It is," Arthur couldn't help nodding his agreement. He opened his mouth to add to this thought, but he was unceremoniously interrupted when something cold and wet launched itself at his face, exploding when it made contact. Blinking away the fine powder, he found himself facing the grinning face of his wife, who was obviously the one that had thrown the snowball at his face.

Quirking an eyebrow at her, he bent and scooped up a snowball of his own, launching back at her, much to her amusement as her clear laughter—a contagious one that bubbled up from her stomach and vibrated through her throat—rang through the bitterly cold, wintery air. Soon, the husband and wife had taken refuge opposite one another behind snow forts, projectile snowballs flying through the air. Arthur didn't realize it then, but he was laughing for the first time he could remember.

Arthur would later look back on that moment as one of great importance. He had never known himself to act so carefree. His sole concern in life had always been his work, his business, his propriety. But, for some reason, at that moment, as he attempted to gather ammunition and dodge incoming barrages of snow projectiles, he did not care for any of that. His mind was too focused on the game, on laughing, on having fun.

Soon, Vash and Lili had wandered out to see what all the commotion was about, Vash joining Arthur at the 'Boy's Fort' while Lili teamed up with Madeleine. They were soaked to the bone by the end of the frigid battle—neither side relenting or surrendering. It only ended in a draw when Eliza appeared and insisted they all come in and warm up by the fire before they all caught their deaths in the snow.

"Madeleine," Arthur said, thoughtfully, as he glanced over at the golden haired woman as they settled onto the plush carpet in front of the fire in his study, both with a steaming cup of hot chocolate clasped in their hands. Vash and Lili were curled up on the couch, too warn out from the day's battle to even bother to try to stay awake a moment longer.

"Hmm?" she replied, to show that she was listening.

"I was thinking," Arthur began, the idea had occurred to him while he was changing from his wet trousers and into a dry pair, and he found it to be a rather good. It was nearly the Christmas season and the staff were all itching to have some sort of event to celebrate the occasion. "That it might be a marvelous idea to hold a Christmas ball."

There was a moment of pause before Madeleine's brow furrowed in confusion and she asked, "But I thought you weren't fond of dancing?"

"Not when I have the perfect partner," he replied, catching her indigo gaze with his green ones so as to make absolutely sure that she knew exactly what he meant.

Of course, she did and this only served to make her turn a light shade of pink, as she replied, "I'll, um, see to the preparations, then."

"I'll do all the planning, all you need to do is make sure the house is stunning," Arthur assured her, leaning forward to give her a peck on the cheek in gratitude for her agreeing to his idea. A smile lit up her face.

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><p><strong>AN:** I promised myself I would wait until tomorrow to post this act but I gave in despite that. Anyway, I would really appreciate it if you voted on the poll posted on my profile, it will help me with my next story as well as know your feedback/love for a certain couple! I really hope you enjoyed this act (and all its fluff) and thank you for reading!


	5. Act V

**Act V, Scene I**

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><p>Madeleine was just passing the old broken grandfather clock, once again thinking that she really must see to having it fixed, when there was a loud crack and she nearly jumped out of her skin. But, being the well-bred lady she was, she did no such thing though she did turn with a rather cross look to see what the cause of all the commotion was. The door had burst open, which was the mostly likely the source of the abrupt noise, and in the doorway stood a man draped in a heavy black coat, his top hat pushed up high atop his head so she could clearly see his face, which also did a marvelous job of making him look thoroughly ridiculous.<p>

"Hold the applause, hold the applause!" he announced to the room in general as he strode in, not seeming to have noticed that Madeleine was standing in the center of the hallway, blinking at him in confusion. "I have arrived!"

"And who exactly _are_ you?" inquired Madeleine as she stepped towards him, drawing attention to herself.

"Ah, my Lady Kirkland! You look even more radiant then when I saw you last on your wedding day," the man said, sweeping off his top hat to reveal thick shocks of blond hair before he straightened. His face was a handsome one, chiseled she would have called it if she had to describe it. His nose looked like it had been broken in one or two places, not having healed correctly—which Madeleine wasn't in the least surprised about, seeing as he was loud and rather arrogant. His eyes were blue which marked him, along with his light accent, as German. And, the thought would later amuse her; he had an uncanny similarity to Ludwig, who was polar opposite of the man.

"Gilbert, what are you doing here?" snapped a third voice and in strode Arthur from the direction of his office, obviously having come to investigate the source of the hullabaloo. He should have recognized that familiar loud, obnoxious voice when he first heard it echo through the house. Arthur came to a halt next to Madeleine, looping an arm about her waist more out of instinct than anything else.

"Well, Kirkland, it _is_ Christmas and I figured it would be the perfect time to come visit my friend. I was going to come earlier, but you _are_ newlyweds," Gilbert replied, laughing at his own joke and giving Madeleine a rather crude wink, which made her turn slightly pink.

Arthur rolled his eyes before he turned to his wife saying, "My dear, this is Gilbert Beillschmidt, a trading associate that works for the East India Trading Company."

"And longtime childhood friend," Gilbert added as he looped an arm around Arthur's shoulders, saying, "This kid and I went to primary school together until he was shipped off to boarding school."

"Mister Beillschmidt!" came yet another voice, this was one distinctly belonging to a rather huffy Eliza. The three turned to look at Eliza stomping into the entryway, laden with three suitcases she was barely managing to keep a hold on. "Please remember to bring in your own luggage, as usual."

"Ah! Dear Eliza!" Gilbert said, sweeping over to the housekeeper to kiss both of her cheeks over the suitcases that were piled in her arms. "You don't look a day older since I last saw you!"

"Get off me, you great lug," Eliza replied, dumping the suitcases into the other man's arms.

"No appreciation," Gilbert sighed as he barely managed to catch his luggage before it was all dumped, rather unceremoniously, onto the floor.

"Gilbert, you're welcome here, of course," Arthur began, although he sounded like he was in pain for saying it, "But we're preparing for a Christmas Ball and if you wish to stay, you must help with the decorating."

"Really, you? Having a ball?" Gilbert asked, blinking in surprise while an amused smile took residence on his face.

"Yes, Gilbert," snapped Arthur, not altogether up to dealing with his eccentric 'friend'—he wouldn't particularly call Gilbert that, but there really was no other word that seemed remotely appropriate for describing what odd, somewhat strained relationship that existed between him and the German man. "And you must help with the preparations or you will just have to come back for it."

"Yeah, I guess I'll stay," Gilbert shrugged after a moment of thought, before adding, "I really don't have anything else to do."

Madeleine glanced at Eliza, who exchanged an annoyed look with her. It seemed they now had an unwelcomed houseguest to deal with as well as their obnoxiously large list of chores.

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene II<strong>

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><p>"Are you alright up there?" Eliza asked, as she fed the garland up to Madeleine who stood atop a rickety ladder that Ludwig had managed to find in the storage shed—which Madeleine wasn't even aware they had. The ladder was wobbly and untrustworthy, to say the least.<p>

As if in answer to her question, the wobbly ladder swayed worryingly as Madeleine moved so as not to snag the hem of her skirt on the garland. "Oh, do be careful!" Eliza said, worry clear in her voice as her eyebrows knotted together and she gazed up at Madeleine.

The Lady sent a grin down to her. "Fear not, Eliza! I have perfect balance from eleven years of etiquette lessons. My mother made me balance ten dictionaries on my head every morning."

Eliza just scowled at her mistress before saying, "If you fall and break your neck, I am _not_ going to be the one that tells the master his wife died falling from a ladder." The housekeeper swept off at that, mumbling something along the lines of 'silly girl, just because those silly nobles made her balance books on her head doesn't mean she can stand on a ladder without falling' under her breath.

Madeleine grinned as she watched the housekeeper bustle away, off to bark at Feliks, who was assisting Roderich in the arranging of holly over the outside entryway. Turning back to her work, she hauled more garland up, careful to not shake any of the red berries or scarlet and gold ribbon from it. It was quite a task to do on her own, she would admit; trying to pull the garland that only seemed to become heavier off from the floor without damaging it, secure it to the molding all while trying her utmost to not ruin her previous work or fall to her untimely death. It was almost enough for her to call Eliza back, despite her grumpy mood. Just almost.

The Lady couldn't blame her friend for her current state of stress, though. The housekeeper had been working from dawn till dusk arranging for the decorations and planning the menu, testing all the food before hand, making sure the house was polished and gleaming, the guest list all in order, the staff all fitted with new formal finery, _and_ all the guests room prepared for those invited that were staying the night. Then there was the greatest annoyance and nuisance above all the rest.

"My Lady?" came a faintly accented voice and Madeleine glanced down from her perch to see the dashing face of Gilbert smiling up at her. Speaking of which. "Are you quite alright up there? It seems rather hazardous to be on that ladder."

Glancing around for Eliza, but finding no sign of her as she was no doubt outside with Roderich or had wandered into the kitchens to attempt to boss around Ludwig—though there was little point in _that_ as Ludwig was the only one that knew precisely what he was doing—Madeleine was forced to say, with a cordial smile, "If you could hold my ladder steady and hand the garland up to me, I would be eternally grateful—and feel much more safe."

"Well of course my Lady, I will aid you," Gilbert replied, a little too enthusiastically and readily. Madeleine, who really had more things on her mind to worry about than be suspicious of every questionable thing Gilbert did—and there were many—decided not to comment upon his behavior and returned to her work.

Arthur was exiting his office, quite tired of the endless stream of reports and letters that always accompanied the Christmas season, with the Company importing twice as many goods to keep up with holiday demands for gifts and supplies, when he paused in the archway that lead from the dining room to the entrance hall. He blinked his eyes in complete shock at the sight before him.

There was his wife, perched atop of a ladder and intent in her work. This in itself was alarming, as he had the sudden mental image of her leaning too far one way or another and tumbling to her untimely death. This mere thought made his heart rapid with panic, but that wasn't his most immediate concern.

His immediate concern was Gilbert, who held the ladder steady that she stood upon, and was taking full advantage of the fact that her hem fell just centimeters above his head. Taking a deep breath to calm the rage that was building inside of him he took a moment for thought. He knew the situation couldn't play out quite as he would have liked, with Gilbert being beaten within an inch of his life, as he _was_, after all, a valuable business partner, but there were other methods. A smile curled onto his lips.

Arthur strode over to the pair, saying, "My lovely, how go the preparations?"

"Hmm?" was Madeleine's reply as she glanced down from her perch but could say no more as Arthur easily plucked her down from her perch, and swept her gracefully into the safety of his arms. "Hello," she said as she gazed up into his green eyes, a blush clear across her cheeks and that embarrassed smile he loved so much already across her face.

He grinned back, and for added effect, he closed the small distance between them as he scooped her into a low, lingering kiss before finally setting her onto her feet once more. "That's one way to greet someone," Madeleine said, as her husband just smiled gently at her, never relinquishing his hold about her waist.

"I'd say," Gilbert said. Arthur's green gaze briefly flicked over to the other blond man, his eyes turning steely and holding a clear threat in them. But Gilbert, did not catch the warning, as he was else wise distracted by Eliza bustling into the entrance hall with Felicia scuttling behind her, the housekeeper verbally jabbing him for not being of use or doing anything in the least bit productive.

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><p><strong>Act V, Scene III<strong>

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><p>"Well bless my soul," Eliza gasped as she smiled proudly at the staff that was assembled in the entrance hall at precisely five o'clock on the fifteenth of December. Every member of the household was assembled, from Victoria to Lili to Roderich, all dressed in fine pale blue serving finery, handmade by the genius that was Felicia—but that only applied to her needlework, as Eliza would say with a teasing grin. "You all look lovely."<p>

Roderich winked at his wife while Vash went beet red and said, "Mom, you're so embarrassing."

Chuckling at her son, but resisting the urge to ruffle his hair as she had spent nearly a half an hour trying to tame the unruly mess that he called hair, she said, "Alright, everyone! This is our big night! I need everyone to be on their tip-top behavior and serving as best as humanly possible. Ludwig shall be finishing with the cooking before helping Felicia and Victoria offer appetizers to our guests. Roderich will be at the door greeting before joining Feliks in serving drinks, Vash you will be handling the horses and carriages. The grooms of our guests will assist you with that. Lili, you will be with me, running errands and making sure everything is going smoothly."

All the staff nodded in unison to the housekeeper, who was like the general of their small army, before Eliza added, "Best of luck everyone, I am proud of you all. Now, get to work!"

The staff scrambled, all shooting off to their assigned tasks. Turning to her daughter, who was the only one that remained within two minutes, Eliza said, "Lili, would you go check on the musicians? They should be set up in the dance hall. Make sure to get them whatever they require for playing."

"Yes, Mama!" Lili nodded before turning on her heel and setting off with a resolute stride in her walk. Eliza watched her daughter go with a small shake of her head and a fond smile playing across her lips before turning her gaze to the entrance hall at large.

It had been a headache, to say the least, but through the combined efforts of not only the staff but the Lady and—on occasion—Gilbert, they had managed to decorate the hall with glittering candles, garland that wove its way up the banister, holly, poinsettias, and gold ornaments. Eliza had no doubt that it had all cost the Lord quite a bit from the manor's funds and she found it more miraculous that he spent all the money than that he was actually holding a ball at all.

He was changing and she was sure it was for the better.

Taking a moment longer to appreciate her work, she bustled upstairs and to the second landing, narrowly missing a maid laden with the most nightmarish pink gown she had ever seen. "Excuse me, Madame," the maid said as she hurried past, disappearing into one of the guest rooms. Nearly every guest bedroom in the house was filled with a Duchess, Earl, or other sort of noble guest that wished to stay the night and every one of the servants' rooms was filled with their own staff. Eliza would have felt sorry for the Lady Kirkland, as she and the Lord spent most of the previous day and that morning greeting and entertaining their guests, but then she had to sort out where to put all of the extra maids, grooms, and footman that were suddenly flooding in.

Weaving past a rather distraught valet that was making a mad dash for the main staircase that would lead him upstairs, attempting to balance a heap of dress shoes and boots in his arms, Eliza continued down to her mistress' room, knocking gently before peering in.

"My Lady?" Eliza asked as she stepped into the room.

Madeleine sat at her vanity, her nose just centimeters away from the mirror as she carefully smudged the rouge on her cheeks so as to soften the color, doing well not to smear her eyelid color or the blackener on her lashes in the process. Her slim figure was wrapped in a silk robe and her golden was curled masterfully on top of her head, little diamonds glittering from within the curls.

"Hello Eliza," the Lady responded after a moment, leaning away from the mirror, apparently satisfied with her work and turning to smile at the housekeeper.

"Are you ready to get into your dress?" the housekeeper asked as she bustled into the bedchamber, going for the wardrobe to retrieve that evening's gown. She paused, as she did every time she saw the gown since it was finished three days before by Felicia, taking a moment to appreciate its truly masterful design. "I think this is Felicia's best work yet," Eliza commented as she slid the gown from its hanger.

A story below where Eliza was tightening Madeleine's corset and helping her wiggle into her dress, Arthur was just arriving into the entrance hall. He cut a truly handsome figure in a stark white shirt with fine gold buttons, a heavily embroidered gold waistcoat that went rather dashingly alone with the silk cravat about his neck. Along with this was his favorite midnight blue tail coat that Felicia had especially retailored for the occasion along with tan breeches—still fashionable much to Arthur's chagrin—and polished black boots. Arthur felt like an idiot, he always did, but he supposed that he could suffer for one evening. All his servants were grinning like madmen and last he saw his wife, she looked radiant with excitement. That was enough reward for him.

As he came down the stairs, he was met by Roderich, a piece of his dark brown hair already stubbornly sticking up despite his wife's best efforts. "My Lord, guests will be arriving any mome—"

Just then, the butler was cut off as the front door was slammed open, and a very familiar blond young man strode into the hall, his hair tussled from travel but a large smile across his face. When he caught sight of Arthur, who was doing well to keep his displeasure off his face, the new arrival said, "Hey there dear brother-in-law!"

"Good evening to you too, Alfred," was Arthur's reply before the other blond man nearly suffocated him with a hug. It was a wonder beyond anyone's comprehension on Alfred's ability to sweep people into a hug with such great speed.

"I am so excited for this ever since I got the invitation though not because there's going to be food and I didn't have to ride up with my parents cause they're coming from London and I just got back from Oxford, and also, the dancing, and I think I kind of like dancing now that I don't have to dance all the time with Millie, but also I get to see my favorite brother-in-law, well my only brother-in-law, and Maddie again too! Where is she, 'cause I don't see here, is she upstairs getting ready? Should I—whoa this place looks amazing!" Alfred rambled as he held his brother-in-law at arm's length, finally catching sight of the decorations and going slack-jawed.

"Yes, my wife is upstairs; she will be down momentarily, as the guests are arriving. Alfred, if you don't mind unhanding me—?" Arthur replied, trying to go about detaching himself as politely as possible.

"Oh, sorry," Alfred replied, stepping back with a grin, not even having enough sense to look sheepish, instead saying, "Is there anything I can do to help?" Well, at least he had his heart in the right place.

"My Lord, I shall go attend to the door," Roderich said, finally finding an opportunity to politely excuse himself without interrupting before hurrying off.

"Alfred, everything is taken care of for now. You must go enjoy yourself, if you really want to be of use," Arthur replied, diplomatically.

The other blond agreed eagerly to his task, "Right! I'll make sure everyone is having a good time!" Without any further ado, Alfred hurried off, presumably to ensure maximum merrymaking, though he soon was deterred from his plan when he came across Victoria and the plate of sausage appetizers she was carrying.

Arthur just sighed, happy to have avoided that headache, and went to join his butler at the door, welcoming all the newly arrived guests to the Christmas ball. Carriage after carriage bounced up the gravel drive, each one with ladies in the finest silks and men in the most expensive velvet being handed out by grooms or chauffeurs. It was mind numbing to wait and, even worse, when there was a brief moment of panic over trying to remember each noble person's name. Fortunately, Roderich was there to whisper the guests name with proper title.

He almost would have taken talking to Alfred over his current task of greeting. Almost.

Nearly all the guests had arrived when a grand coach embellished with gold molding came to a halt in front of the manor and out stepped the most pompous man Arthur had ever laid eyes on. He restrained himself from a groan of disgust. What had possessed him to invite _him?_ Oh yes, he was Madeleine's father and his own father-in-law.

"Sir Bonnefoy!" Arthur greeted as he forced a wide, welcoming smile onto his face, not needing any prompt for this guest.

"Lord Kirkland, my good sir!" was the jovial reply. Sir Francis was a handsome man with a rather fashionable stubble on his chin and his long gold hair—apparently the latest trend from Paris—tied back in a ribbon. "I don't think you have seen my wife for quite some time?"

At this, Sir Francis handed his wife, the Lady Marianne, from the carriage, her long, pale hair done masterfully into gleaming braids. "A true pity it is," Arthur said as Lady Marianne offered her hand and Arthur kissed it, as was gentlemanly, "My lovely mother-in-law is always such a delight."

"You flatter an old woman, my dear boy," she replied, with a laugh as Arthur simply smiled back, not entirely sure how to respond to this.

He wouldn't need to though, as Sir Francis made a loud gasp of shock, and clutched his wife's hand dramatically. "You are not old, my love! Your beauty will never die for me."

Lady Marianne simply laughed while Arthur exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Roderich, before he cleared his throat and said, "Right this way, please." He led the way into the entrance hall, with the Bonnefoys following a few seconds later, obviously taking another moment to delight in their own dramatics.

"Oh, how gorgeous!" Lady Marianne exclaimed as she caught sight of the beautifully decorated entrance way. She was about to add on to this thought when she caught sight of someone on the staircase and she gasped, saying, "My goodness, is that Madeleine?"

At the mention of his wife's name, Arthur turned his attention to the grand staircase and found his eyes captivated by her, her golden hair glittering with hidden diamonds that caught the candlelight, her dress made of the finest gold silk that hugged her chest and torso with find embroidery before sweeping out into a skirt that swirled and twirled whenever she so much as stepped. From her ears hung diamonds and about her neck rested glittering sapphires that only served to make her eyes like sapphires as well.

If Arthur had been paying attention, he would have heard Lady Marianne's grumble of complaint that her daughter's stomach looked upsettingly flat or Sir Francis hurriedly hushing his wife with an amused smile. But he wasn't paying the least bit of attention to any of this, simply looking at his beautiful, glorious, magnificent wife that was smiling that embarrassed smile he loved so much, just for him, her indigo gaze trained solely on him.

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene IV<strong>

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><p>Dinner was a spectacular affair, all running smoothly and every single one of Ludwig's masterful creations more astonishing and mouthwatering than the last. It was universally agreed that it was the best Christmas feast anyone in attendance had ever had the pleasure of attending. It continued for nearly two hours, well past nine, when Arthur, seated at the head of the table, carefully chimed his water goblet with his spoon, drawing all attention to himself.<p>

"And now," Arthur began, once he was confident all eyes were turned to him, "After that splendid dinner, I invite to enjoy music and dancing." With that, Roderich and Eliza opened the doors that lead to the dancing hall, and Lili gestured frantically at the musicians who instantly struck up a rather fashionable waltz.

Soon, the gilded hall was filled with chatter as gentlemen spun ladies about the center of the floor, their practiced feet easily allowing them to glide about the room with ease. The older woman gossiped behind their hand fans or instigated their daughter's dance cards being filled while the older men either tried to save their daughters from such fate or knew better than to intervene and retreated to the card room.

Madeleine and Arthur, being the host and hostess of the party were obligated to dance with their guests for every song to help ensure everyone was having a merry time. Entering into the dance hall, Madeleine saw that the first song had already started and many young ladies were being swept about the room by prospective husbands, except for Arthur's partner, who didn't look at all put out that her dance partner was no longer available, but rather smitten with the charming smile he had fixed on his face.

Turning away from the sight, Madeleine found herself face-to-face with Gilbert, his hair dashingly slicked back instead of the usual mop he kept it in. It looked vaguely like Eliza's work and Madeleine couldn't help but smirk at the thought. Taking this as a smile for him, Gilbert returned it with a brilliant grin, saying, "Good evening, my Lady Kirkland. Could I possibly persuade you into dancing with me?"

Madeleine, though not entirely inclined to dancing but knowing that denying him would not make for a good first impression, as this was the first ball she was hosting, forced a gracious smile onto her lips as she said, "Of course, it would be my pleasure."

With that, he swept her off into the turning and swirling mass of couples as they circumnavigated the hall. It took the Lady only a moment for her to recognize the tune properly and remember the appropriate steps for it, her feet easily falling into time with the music. When this was done, she finally focused her attention upon her dance partner, only to find a particularly seductive smile on his face. She recognized that smile as one that had made countless women swoon. She knew, just months ago, she would have fallen under its spell, but now, focusing on the steps of the minuet were all she could do to keep from showing her visible disgust in him.

His left hand about her waist was warm and she had an acute awareness of its position, like his mere touch could burn her at any moment. "I was telling Lord Kirkland how lucky he is to have such a beautiful wife, the other day," Gilbert was saying as they spun, "I can't tell you how delightful it would be to have a lovely face to look upon, like yours, everyday."

As he spoke, his hand slid along her side, going lower. It was a gradual movement, one that she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't particularly felt his hand in the first place. She dared not say anything. It would be rude to pull away hurriedly and cause quite a stir amongst the guests should she reveal to them all the reason behind her actions. She didn't particularly like Gilbert, but she didn't dislike him either, and she didn't want to ruin his reputation for it. All she allowed herself was her back to stiffen in discomfort, but he didn't seem to notice as he was too intent of complimenting her beauty and demeanor.

Just as she was about to jerk away—she no longer cared for politeness, his hand had crept too far—a loud voice said, "Maddie! You've got to dance with me!"

Alfred bounced into view, a bright smile across his face, before he halted and said to Gilbert, as was polite, "May I cut in?"

Gilbert forced a smile, knowing there was no way of avoiding relinquishing his hold, and said, "Of course." He bowed to Madeleine before surrendering her hand to Alfred and striding back to the milling crowd that ringed where the dancers spun.

"Great party, Mads," Alfred said with a bright smile as they started off where Gilbert had left off.

"Thank you Alfred," Madeleine said before she asked, after a pause of consideration, "Alfred, did you cut in because you saw what was happening?"

"What was happening?" blinked her brother, tilting his head in thought at her question.

Sighing and not helping herself from chuckling, she said, "Oh, never mind." Alfred never changed, she supposed.

Not long after Gilbert joined the milling crowd, he found Eliza by his side, looking rather annoyed with him. "Just did you think you were doing?" she demanded.

Smiling at the housekeeper, who he often bothered when he was younger, he said, deliberately avoiding her question, "Oh hello Mrs. Eliza, thank you for helping me with my hair."

Eliza did not acknowledge the thanks, only repeating, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Now what could you possibly mean by that?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she snapped, not caring in the least that Gilbert far outranked her and could have her thrown in jail for her impertinence.

Grinning his trademark smirk, he said airily, "I was just putting my stamp of approval on her for our dear Lord Kirkland." Eliza just frowned at him, so he continued on, in a much more solemn voice. "I think she'll do him some good. She's kind where he is coarse; she is gentle where he is cold."

Gilbert, despite him seeming to be a rather obnoxious and not an altogether smart person, had seen through the Lord Kirkland's charming mask he put on during the London society season. He knew that of the true, cold conniving businessman that lay within his friend. But now, Eliza realized at that moment as she caught sight of her master waltzing past, that wasn't him either. He had shown a completely new side of himself that may not have been all that coarse or cold as Gilbert described.

Deciding not to share these thoughts, Eliza said peevishly, "Is that why you were trying to look up her skirt?"

Gilbert just glanced over at her, doing his best to feign innocence, which he wasn't very good at doing at all. She sighed in disgust at him before she swatted him over the head, saying, "Go dance with a young lady that isn't married, there's plenty to go around, and _don't_ _do anything_." Giving the young man a stern eye, making sure he knew that she would be the one to answer to should he try 'anything', as she had said, the housekeeper turned on her heel and bustled off.

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>The next morning, Madeleine was unwillingly brought into consciousness due to a rather loud crash and a series of mumbled curse words. Her eyes, though still heavy from sleep, fluttered open to find that she had somehow managed to make her way into her bedchamber and she was nestled underneath a rather large mound of blankets, though she had no recollection of doing so the previous evening.<p>

Shifting her gaze around, in search of the noise that had wakened her, she found Arthur crouched on the floor at the side of her bed, intent on gathering an oil lamp—which was thankfully devoid of any oil and the glass hurricane on it didn't shatter—off the floor. "Arthur?" she asked, she voice blurred by drowsiness.

Glancing up, the blond lord, the morning sun sending golden streaks into his hair, noticed that his wife's indigo eyes were peering down at him and he adopted a sheepish smile. "Good morning, my love. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to waken you. I just came to deliver this," he said as he straightened, setting the oil lamp back on Madeleine's bedside table before producing a letter from his waistcoat's pocket and setting it beside the lamp.

"Hmm?" was her only reply as she reached for the letter and unfolded it to see her husband's jagged handwriting within.

"I've been called away rather urgently, it seems there's a crisis at Portsmouth with one of our merchant ships carrying counterfeit goods," Arthur explained, his brow furrowed in worry. "I am sorry to leave you to manage all the guests but I wouldn't go if it wasn't of vital importance."

"I know, darling," Madeleine replied with a reassuring smile. And, she realized, it was true. She knew that he didn't want to leave so often anymore, that he would much rather stay at home with her unless the situation was dire.

"Thank you for understanding," Arthur said, breathing a sigh of relief, bending down to give her a kiss of gratitude. "I'll be home before Christmas Eve, I promise."

"I'll be waiting," Madeleine replied, swinging her feet out of the warmth of her bed and onto the cool floorboards so as to stand and give her husband a proper hug. He seemed shocked for a moment, as though he was not used to the contact and temporarily paralyzed in shock from it, before he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She was so small against him, as he held her close, and he realized he really didn't want to leave. He didn't care about his Company's name being smeared by one greedy merchant or that, if he stayed, he would have to face his many guests that had spent the night after the party, as obnoxious as some of them could be. He didn't care about anything except being with her, seeing her smile, and holding her close. But, then he mentally shook himself out of such thoughts.

He allowed himself to savor the feeling of her arms around his neck, her gentle fingers in his hair, and her head upon his chest before he pulled away. "I'll be back before you know it," he reassured her with a soft smile.

She smiled and nodded in response to this. She was beautiful, his Madeleine, and he couldn't help but to lean in and kiss his wife greedily, longingly as he would be deprived of her beauty for longer than he cared for. He really needed to stop taking business trips.

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>Gilbert had been the last guest to leave the manor. He and Alfred had been insistent on staying to bid farewell to all the other guests, especially since Arthur wasn't home, making them the last to leave. Alfred said he was taking the public coach out to Dover, where he planned to take the ferry to Calais and then travel onward to Paris. Madeleine wasn't entirely sure what her brother was planning but she stoutly decided not to ask as she didn't want to give him the pleasure of telling her and also because she had the oddest feeling that she didn't entirely want to know.<p>

Upon hearing these plans, Gilbert offered to drop Alfred off at the coach stop on his way back into London, where he boasted of being invited to Queen Victoria's private Christmas dinner, which Madeleine vaguely remember Arthur being invited as a guest of honor. But, he had politely declined due to their own party, though she wisely decided not to mention this.

A wave of complete relief washed over her as she waved away Gilbert's carriage, sighing as she entered back into the manor. The staff all had the day off and Madeleine had no doubt most of them had shuffled back to bed after all the guest's luggage had been sorted, carried down to the entrance hall, and loaded onto the appropriate carriage. Glancing over at the grandfather clock for the time, only to remember it was broken; Madeleine wearily made her way into the dining room.

"Eliza?" she asked, her brow furrowed as she caught sight of housekeeper seated in one of the many chairs around the dining room table, a bucket of soapy water by her feet and a washcloth in hand. The brunette looked exhausted, as Madeleine had only seen with very elderly people that had seen too many and done too many things in their very long lives. It was a peculiar sight, as Eliza couldn't be older than thirty five. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, my Lady," Eliza said, in surprise, as she made to rise but Madeleine hurried over, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "I'm sorry, I was just overcome by an ache and I felt winded."

The Lady frowned at this. "Eliza, you really should be resting. You have been doing too much for the party and you deserve a good night's sleep now."

"No, no," the housekeeper replied, not so easily swayed, "I just need another moment to rest; I'll get my wind back. When you've lived as long as I have, you learn a thing or two about yourself."

This only made Madeleine frown more, "How old are you, exactly?"

There was a beat of silence as Eliza did her absolute best to avoid eye contact before she took a deep breath and a smile, a forced one, lit her face as she said, "Ah, there we go! I've got my breath back. No need to worry, dear, you go on."

Madeleine just fixed her friend with a hard look but didn't respond. She knew Eliza well enough to know when it was a lost cause in trying to get anything out of her. She just shook her head and continued on to office, deciding not to worry about the tired spell of the housekeeper's if she insisted not to. After all, she trusted Eliza's judgment; it had yet to fail her.

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene VII<strong>

* * *

><p>Madeleine peered into the attic cautiously, never quite fully used to the shivers that the dusty, cluttered, and very restricted room gave her. All was as she left it, the dust still accumulating on the furniture covered in the otherwise pristine white sheets and the small path still carved through the general mess. Taking another moment, just to be safe and for her own mental reassurance, she stepped out from the protection the door offered, carefully threading her way along.<p>

It was a route she could have traveled in her sleep, with the amount of times she had made the trip up to the attic, but that certainly didn't mean she was eager to try it. Every time she so much as thought of the picture frame, shrouded by the white sheet, her heart seemed be seized with an incomprehensible terror. As for the actual portrait itself, she did her absolute best to block its image from her thoughts.

Shifting her hold on the journal she had finished reading through the evening before, she squinted through the dust-filled air, trying to decide which of the heaps of journals the book she currently held belonged to. The familiar scratch of the writing was the only noise that penetrated the silence as she thought. Deciding it was best just to hazard a guess Madeleine set it atop others that looked about the same age, judging from the yellow of the pages, before she couldn't help her own curiosity from going to inspect the latest journal.

The writing was the same as it was before, jagged and spidery black words being scrawled across the page by an invisible author and quill. It never ceased to amaze her and terrify her. Leaning down to read more closely of what the words were saying, rather than just marveling at the fact that they were being written at all, she hurriedly scanned the first passage of text.

'_Business was soon resolved, the Chinese merchant not wanting to face the wrath of the angry Lord, his infamous temper preceded him, and soon an agreement was reached. It was not favoring the merchant, but there was little pity taken upon him as he was assisting in smuggling, though unbeknownst to him. This left the Lord free from all other business engagements and allowed him to—'_

"What are you doing up here?" a cold voice trying to contain unspeakable anger and betrayal came suddenly from behind Madeleine, making her jerk hurriedly away from reading the journal's words and pivot about in a single motion, her eyes widening in shock and fear.

Standing before her was Arthur, his top hat in one hand and his other in a whitened fist, as though trying to control his rage by digging is nails into the skin of his palm. His facial features were vicious, his mouth pressed into a line of rage and emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was a fearsome sight, in his limber frame there was mad power only barely contained. But, above all else, that stabbed not fear, but sorrow, into Madeleine's heart was the glimpse of betrayal she witnessed in his eyes before they hardened again.

"I—I—" she tried to stutter out, her throat tight not from the dust that hung in the air.

He did not allow for her to finish what little excuse she would attempt to stutter out, only demanding, "How long have you known? How _much_ do you know?"

"Arthur, please—" she tried to say, reaching her hands out pleadingly towards him.

He took her right wrist, pulling her in towards him so he could hiss, dangerously, "Do not call me that." As quickly as he had taken hold of her, he released her, pushing her away from him.

She stumbled back, but did not lose her footing. Standing straight, not to be so easily deterred, she said, "Arthur, I love you, I don't care—"

"What I look like?" he asked, meeting her gaze for a moment before moving with single motion and balling the white sheet that covered the portrait in his fist, pulling back so as to send a cloud of dust in the ear. He didn't even cough or rub his eyes, simply staring at the image for a moment, as if having not seen it in quite some time and not in the least bit shocked by its appearance.

Madeleine's stomach lurched but she refused to sway or acknowledge her sudden nausea in the least.

"This," the Lord said, stabbing a finger at the grotesque image, "This is my real face. I am repulsive, disgusting, nauseating _monster_. How could anyone possibly love that?" He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to speak, but she couldn't as the sight made her nauseous. So much so that she dared not open her mouth and the dust sent into the air was suffocating only hindered her even further.

"Not even you, and all your _love_, could dare bear such a sight." He spat the words out at her, mocking her. The silence that followed his words was a stretch of emptiness. Not even the journal and its continuous scratching broke the heavy void. He glared at her, his emerald eyes daring her to argue with him, but her indigo gaze remained stubbornly upon the floorboards.

"I think it's time for you to leave," the Lord finally said, taking hold of her wrist once more, not as violently but firmly, nonetheless. Her legs proved treacherous and followed him as he lead the way from the attic, down the staircase that she supposed was the real way into the upstairs, as it lead them down to the fourth story hallway. Arthur led the silent procession, not so much as glancing back at her.

They made for the main staircase and never had Madeleine seen so many stairs in her life. They stretched out before her, too many for her wobbling legs to muster the energy to descend. The Lord continued on before her, descending the stairs resolutely and forcing her to follow. The mere noise of each step he took was like a death toll that rang in her ears.

Her wide eyes took in the sight of the entrance hall, once looming and imposing, but now welcoming and familiar. When she had arrived and the days and weeks that followed, she longed to be rescued from the cavernous, lonely house. She wanted nothing more than to leave. But now, after she had met the people that lived and worked in the house, who took her in as family and a friend immediately, she could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

Tears pricked her eyes but she bit her bottom lip, refusing to let it tremble or to allow a single fat, salty teardrop from sliding down her face.

The Kirkland manor had become more of a home than the townhouse she had grown up in. In the short eight months since she had taken up residence in the grand house, she learned all of its nooks and crannies, loving each one just the way it was. She adored the old charm of the wooden paneled walls and the cozy fireplaces and she loved the staff that minded it all.

They were the best friends she had ever known, Alfred being the only exception to this. Eliza was the first woman out of her family to sit and talk with her for all the little things that girls needed to talk about. Felicia offered a smile and a happy word whenever it was needed. Roderich looked after her like her own father would and Ludwig was caring in his own silent way. She couldn't leave them. They were her family now.

Turning her gaze back upon the Lord's blonde head, she felt her heart throb. It wasn't only from the thought of realizing her home. She knew that the Kirkland manor wasn't her _real _home. It may have been the house she lived in, but it wasn't complete without one essential thing.

It was Arthur.

She knew he hid himself, his true personality, behind what he expected himself to be, that portrait. He saw himself as a monster because that what he expected to see from that painting. But, she had discovered something different in him behind the mask of coldness he had masqueraded in for so long. He was shy and gentle, thoughtful and kind. He was protective of her and she did not mind that as she was protective of him. She loved him enough to trust his judgment, though she knew it to be clouded from grief and betrayal, and she would do as he said. But not without knowing he felt the same.

"No," she stated flatly, jerking her hand from his hold as this thought occurred to her. There was a pause, as if the Lord did not believe that single, resolute word she uttered. Slowly he turned upon the step he had paused on and his emerald eyes were not full of rage but surprise, rather.

This gave Madeleine heart and she continued on with new confidence, "Arthur, I don't care that you were cursed four hundred years ago for your greed, I don't care that you put on a mask to hid yourself, and I don't care that you push me away. Because, Arthur, I've come to realize that I love you and if that means that you will send me away, then so be it. I will go happily as long as I leave knowing you love me too," she said taking hold of his hands and clasping them earnestly, trying to convey the truth of her words.

He took a moment to allow her words to hang in the air, considering them. As she had spoken, his eyes had slid down to the carpet below their feet, refusing to meet her gaze. It may have been because he did not want her to see how weak he was at that moment or because he did not wish to see the love in her eyes. "How _could_ you love me? I am an ancient, disgusting monster hidden behind a beautiful face." His hands slipped out of hers.

"I don't care about your appearance! You are handsome now and when you grow old, you'll still be handsome to me, because I'm not in love with your blond hair or your emerald eyes! I love you for the man you truly are!" Madeleine cried, trying desperately to make him listen to her words. A fat tear slid down her cheek, she could not lose him.

Far below in the entrance hall, Eliza peered up through the hallway, attracted by the commotion. Roderich appeared at her side soon after, though she silently motioned for him to be remain quiet. They had been waiting for this moment for far too long to ruin now.

"How do you know the man you love is truly who I am? I put on a fake façade to charm your family while we were engaged, how can you be so sure that I am any different?" he snapped out, though the venom was gone from his voice.

"Arthur, when you are your true self—the one I love—you are _genuine_, I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice, not coarse or distant! You are deeply passionate and caring, shy in your endearments but warm in your embraces," Madeleine replied, her voice breaking as she spoke, her tears now sliding without restraint from her eyes.

This caused Arthur to look up from the floor, to finally meet her eyes and see the truth in them amidst the tears that sprung from the thought of losing him. Something stirred inside of him; something that he had known for quite some time and had tried to deny for what seemed like a very long time now.

He could not bear the sight of her tears, hating himself for being the cause of them. It was unexplainable, the change that had occurred in his heart, but now, all he wanted to do was kiss away her tears and hold her tightly, to protect her from harm. He knew he had been a fool, a bigger one than there had ever lived.

Not able to see her in such despair a moment longer, he gently cupped her face, rubbing away her tears gently with his thumb. "Shh, my love, don't cry," he spoke softly, endearingly. A watery smile spread across her face as she reached a hand up to clasp the one of his that wiped away her tears, caring little for wiping them away as she would much rather feel his strong, warm hand in hers.

"I have been a fool," Arthur finally spoke after a moment to savor her smile, his voice low and ashamed. "And you are too good to me." She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her by kissing her, tasting the salt of her tears and also the sweetness of her scent. Pulling back only slightly, he whispered for her ears alone, "I will not send you away, my gentle Madeleine. I am a greedy man and I love you too much to let anyone else have you."

Suddenly, there was a loud gong from the first story of the entrance hall as the grandfather clock boomed out for first time in nearly four hundred years. Eliza and Roderich jumped in surprise at the sudden noise before both tilting their heads back in laughter and delight, pulling each other into an embrace and spinning about. Their laughter filled the whole manor.

Madeleine jumped in surprise at not only the sudden gong but the laughter, looking slightly embarrassed they had been overheard. But Arthur had just closed his eyes and sighed in relief, as though the weight of the world had been on his shoulders for quite a long time and it had just been lifted.

She gave her husband a question looking—she had thought the clock was broken—but her husband just smiled at her, pecking the tip of her nose as he said, with a small laugh, "Time has started once more."

* * *

><p><strong>Act V, Scene VIII: Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>"And the Beauty and the Beast lived happily after," Arthur, now an old man with many wrinkles his face and his blond hair that had long since had turned to white, concluded to the small audience gathered before his armchair.<p>

"Aww, Grandpa!" whined one of the little girls, bright red bows in her twin braids, as she sprang up to fix her grandfather with a stern look, little fists at her hips. "You can't end the story like that!"

"Yeah, you haven't said what happened to the housekeeper or the butler—" began another of the little children, a usually rowdy little boy with unruly brown hair as the girl with the braids was tugged back down to sit, as she was blocking most everyone else's view.

"Or Beauty's brother!" chimed another little boy, his hair equally unruly but blond instead of brown.

Laughing, Arthur asked, "How about the rest of you? Do you want to hear what Jack, Peter, and Matilda asked for?" The other five children nodded their heads along with Jack, Peter and Matilda, all equally eager for more to the tale.

"Well, the staff had too been freed from the spell that the Beast had been under, as the curse was not only cast upon him but the servants that had raised him to be as he was. The housekeeper and her husband, the butler, wanting to see what the world had become, went on a very long vacation with their two children, though they soon returned as it was their home. The groom and his wife, the gardener, left to seek their fortunes, soon coming into the favor of the Queen of the England. The cook and his wife, the seamstress, stayed, thought the seamstress soon found herself setting up a sewing business for the finest ladies of the court."

"And the Beauty's brother met and fell in love with a Russian woman while traveling around Europe, who was nothing at all like Millie of Northumberland," Arthur concluded, much to the delight of his audience as they all cheered and clapped for the tale.

"Children," called a feminine voice and Arthur looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway of library where story time was traditionally held, "Come along, Christmas dinner is all set out."

"Hurray!" all of them cheered as they collected themselves from the floor and hurried to the door, racing each other to be the first one to the dining room. Arthur watched them go with a fond smile.

"They're just like Matthew, Alice, and Abigail when they were younger," his wife said, with a laugh, as she came over to stand beside him. Arthur lurched to his feet to follow the stampede of his grandchildren into the dining room, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist as he did.

"I only hope they don't all marry Americans, though," Arthur replied, a teasing tone in his voice as he glanced over at his wife, who only shook her head at him but couldn't restrain a smile of her own. "Has Alfred and his wife arrived yet?"

"Yes and all the rest of the family. Eliza and Roderich are trying to keep order," laughed Madeleine at the thought of their dear friends, who were always considered family at the Kirkland manor. She frowned after a moment and said, "Arthur, I wish you wouldn't refer to yourself as a beast."

"But you don't mind being called a beauty?" he asked, peevishly, chuckling at her reaction before saying, "Dear, it is true, you must agree. And, it makes for better story telling. Just think of it: _Beauty and the Beast_."

"Beauty and the Beast," Madeleine replied, testing out the title for herself before she shook her head and said, "I still prefer the Picture of Arthur Kirkland." At this her husband chuckled before leaning down to give his wife a kiss, which was, of course, interrupted by their son, Matthew, as there was a crisis at hand in the dining room. Husband and wife, with smiles on their faces, just laughed and set off from the library, living as they had for nearly sixty years, happily ever after.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I can't even begin to say how sad and extremely happy at the same time I am that I'm finally done with this story (sad that it is over, happy that I managed it without keeling over). I really hope you all enjoyed and I must thank you all so much for your lovely reviews; you have no idea how much motivation they were and are for me! Also, the next Act story is in the works, so be on the look out for that as well as **The Captain's Fancy**, the prize one-shot for Freedom Kiwi featuring Pirate!England and Fem!Canada. Don't forget to support your favorite couple in the poll! Once again, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

**Notes ****About Characters:** I decided that the only one that could possibly be married to France is France, as he would be the only one he is faithful to, so Lady Marianne it is. (I decided to only have them in one scene because they've been mentioned so often that they needed to appear at least once.) Also, the reason I made Gilbert blond was to keep in the time era. Albinos would have been treated poorly back then, so to avoid that, I just gave him Ludwig's coloring and let Maddie enjoy the irony of it all.


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